Seek
by SimpleCrow
Summary: The story of the Sylvari Thief, Ollathir Hemlock and his adventures with The Bloodstone Seekers, a guild whose goal is to find the legendary bloodstones to fight the dragons.
1. Chapter 1: The Meeting

Black. Everything is black. The ground beneath my feet and the trees reaching into the sky are black. The sky might be black too, but I can't see it. The boughs of the trees, like long skeletal fingers, blot out the sky. In the past, I have tried climbing them, but they are endless. They go up and up, leaves and limbs. It is impossible to tell where the dark wood ends and the world begins. Sometimes, I think there is no world outside the wood. It is just me and the trees and black. Everything is black. Black like a moonless night. Black like pitch. I too am black. A leather cloak hangs loosely from my shoulder, and I wear my hood up. I am formless, a shadow. The dark forest is my home; I move through it unseen, nothing more than a forest spirit, a druid floating through the darkness, but I do not merely float. I sting. Across my back is a wooden short bow and a quiver of arrows. They are made of black wood gifted to me by the forest. The dark forest gives me shadow to float and wood to sting; in exchange, I protect it. I am its guardian spirit.

In the distance, screams fill the air, echoing through the trees as though they are made of stone. The shrieks are those of pain like a man being burned alive or a woman in labor. It is a cold sound that freezes my heart and steals the warmth from my limbs, and I can feel goose pimples rippling on my skin. All around me, the trees wave their limbs as though in a strong wind. But there is no wind, only the sound of the screams. The trees reject the shrieks; they call out to me, calling for me to stop the screams. I unsheathe my bow and sprint deeper into the wood, toward the noise. Silently, I fly; my movements flow as though the trees were ethereal or made of water. As I draw near, the screams grow louder and sharper. I can feel them piercing me, filleting my flesh from my bones and ripping my cloak. Ahead, I can see the screamers, slowly walking through the wood. Like me, they are formless. Unlike me, they are white. I am made of shadow; they are made of light. Seeing them burns my eyes. Hearing them burns my ears, but they are easy targets. I notch two arrows and let fly. Two black shafts strike the heart of a white invader, and his screams rise in pitch before fading as he collapses to the ground. Suddenly, there is one less voice among the screams, but the other invaders take up his cry, their screams of agony now a ghostly war chant; they move toward me in unison, white swords drawn and poised to strike. As each of them draw near, I strike them down with a black arrow. On the horizon, I can see innumerable white invaders marching through the trees, an army born from the sun itself.

For each one I bring down, three rise in its place. Dozens lie dead at my feet, each with a black bolt rising from their chest. The black floor of the forest is white with the bodies and the blood of the invaders. One invader moves forward slowly, an axe-wielding arm reared back to deliver a killing blow. I reach for my quiver but find it empty. Unable to defend myself, I leap to the side away from the blade of the white axe. It misses my head, but cuts deeply into my left shoulder, cleaving through leather and bone. The wound does not feel like a cut; it feels like fire. White flames run through my body, replacing the blood in my veins. I fall to the ground while the fire pours into my body and my black blood pours out. The white invader brings his axe high above his head and lets it fall for the final blow.

I wake up covered in sweat; my heart racing. The sensation of burning lingers for a moment after I wake, but fades to the dull throb of my own pulse. Even now, two years after I woke from my original dream, the images still haunt me. The dark forest plagues my dreams at night and dominates my thoughts during the day; it is a wonder I have not been driven to madness. Still, I suppose most would consider mad. When was the last time I spoke to another living being? Probably when I crossed paths with a centaur patrol a week ago, and even then, more silver was exchanged than words. A slight breeze ruffles the cloth of my hood. When was the last time another living being saw me without my hood? Not since I awoke from the Dream two years ago. All that anyone has seen in that time is a dark blue chin and narrow eyes that glow the color of a mountain stream. Yes, to any other, I am quite mad.

The last thought prompts me to slowly remove my hood, and I am rewarded by the cool morning air that blows off the nearby lake. To the east, the sun is slowly rising over the hills of southern Kryta, the large human kingdom that dominates the central plains of Tyria. On the northern shore of the lake, I can just barely see the villagers of Triskell Quay stirring with the first light of dawn. Only a day ago, I had passed through that small village. I suppose that isn't entirely correct; I had remained on a hill overlooking the village, watching the human police force called the Seraph fight off a group of Krait slavers. Yes, I could have helped, but it was not my fight. I have business elsewhere. Gathering up my meager belongings, I turn my attention south, toward the humid Maguuma Jungles and toward the closest place to what I might call home: Caledon and the Grove.

A steep ridge separates southern Kryta from northern Maguuma, but when my people, the Sylvari, formed the Grove, the Lionguard blasted out a portion of the rock face to make way for the Lion Road, a massive trade route connecting the major cities of Tyria to its new center of trade, Lion's Arch. The city is probably my least favorite place in Tyria, and consequentially, I did not get along with the Lionguard or their road. Still having a road that goes straight into Caledon is a lot better than going the long way through the Wildlands, which as it happens, is my favorite place in Tyria. I enjoy the openness, the freedom. There is barely anyone throughout the entirety of the region except a few bandits and Skritt, and while normally, I would take the long route, if only to avoid the prying eyes of the Lionguard, I am far too tired. I need a long rest, and the only place I can think to go for that is the Grove.

Still, as I walk south, I feel a great burden weighing on me. My small satchel and wooden bow feel like they are made of stone, and each step drives me further toward the ground. It is not returning to the Grove that makes the journey so difficult; it is what comes after. The choices I will have to make, which path I will follow. Before me is a series of roads leading me into futures even a see could not predict. So, why do I feel like I was walking toward a cliff? There is no time to ponder such things; just moving forward requires all my strength. When the temperate Krytan winds become the humid air of Maguuma, my unease begins to fade. Even though I hadn't been there since I woke, this place still calms me, and with each deep breath of fragrant Caledon air, my burden disappears from my mind. Before I realize it, I am striding through the jungle with my head raised high.

Very soon after entering Caledon Forest, I leave the Lion Road behind me. Despite the service of the Lionguard and the Grove's Wardens, the road is plagued by innumerable adversaries, the undead Risen, snakelike Krait, unfriendly Hylek, and of course, the Nightmare Court, but I don't want to think about that last group. I focus on walking through the rough terrain of the jungle. As I move, my feet become familiar with the land – I am not simply walking; I am learning. Each steps teaches me something about the land beneath my feet. Unlike others of my kind, I learned nothing from my dream; that is, I learned nothing but how to learn, and I learn from the greatest of all teachers: Tyria itself. I have no need for a mentor or friends or family; where would they be now? They would be on the Lion Road, helping the Wardens battle the Risen. No, I have no need for them. There is me, and there is the land. It is my teacher, my mentor, and my friend; I have no need for them.

I travel southwest until I run into the Ruins of the Unseen, an open air cave where an Asuran krewe studies a small clan of Skritt. Rather than going through the ruins, I skirt the western edge and find myself on the road heading due south to the small village of Astorea. By the time I reach the road, the sun is already setting; I have been walking all day without rest. Even though I saved a few hours by cutting through the jungle, it still takes a good day to travel from the Krytan border to the Grove. There is no rush, though, no need to rest; I will reach the Grove before nightfall.

Two hours before sunset, I reach Caer Astorea, a small Warden outpost that guards the northwestern corner of the village against attacking courtiers. As I enter the gate, a warden walks over to give me the rundown:  
"What is your business?"

"Traveling to the Grove."

"Any weapons?"

"A sword and a short bow, but no arrows."

"What's in the bag?"

"Herbal tonics and poisons. Also some food and water."  
"What are your intentions?"

"Returning to rest beneath the Mother's branches."

The warden regards me for a moment, then waves me through without trouble. I can't help but shake my head; it is a wonder the Court doesn't just walk into the Grove. That's one reason I don't need others of my own kind: they are all fools. Even though I don't enjoy the company, I always prefer that of other races. They have been on this world long enough to have some sense. Sylvari never got the chance to get any we die faster than we can fall off the Tree. Sometimes, I think the other races just use us as cannon fodder; sometimes, I don't blame them.

A stone flies across my path, knocking into my boot before tittering to the ground lifelessly. Looking around, there doesn't seem to be anyone who could have kicked it. At each gate are a few wardens, testing their bowstrings. On the wall above me there are three or four saplings in heavy chain mail discussing something amongst themselves. Then I see it: a flash of purple to my left. Just in case, I place my hand on the hilt of my sword. There is definitely something – someone – there, hiding inside a hollowed out mushroom stalk; I can see the hem of their robe peaking from behind the column. If they were trying to hide, they are doing a poor job of it. With a rob that color, a dredge could have spotted them. For a minute or so, I watch that small triangle of purple, waiting to see what the stranger would do. There again! A brief flash of purple, this time with pink. A small face peaks from behind the pillar, then seeing me, quickly hides again. My hand leaves the hilt of my sword, and I walk toward the pink Sylvari. Now that I am closer, I can see the slight tremble of the robe; whoever this is, they are no threat. On the contrary, I am the threatening one, and why not? In my black cloak and hood, I look like a specter. With the dark blade of my sword, I must seem to be the harbinger of death.

Slowly, I raise my hands, "I am not going to harm you. Please, come out."

There is a brief moment of silence before the hiding Sylvari moves out form behind the pillar. I have never been one to take time to admire beauty; even if I did, I don't think I would truly know what it and is not beautiful. Since it had been so long since I have been with my own kind, what my people consider beautiful is unknown to me, but upon seeing that Sylvari come out of hiding, I think I might have discovered it.

She is small, hardly reaches my shoulders, and her body is thin, lithe, graceful, like the branches of a birch tree in the spring. The purple I saw before is a long, intricately woven dress that covers her from the tips of her toes to the hood hanging over her gentle face. Under the hood, I can see her skin, pink like a newly blossomed rose; in fact, everything about her reminds me of a small rose. She seems so fragile staring at me, eyes wide with fear. It is only when I look closer at her eyes that I realize she is not looking at me. Her eyes are raised as if she expects the roof to cave in on her. I remember the saplings on the wall – just above us, to be sure – and notice they are no longer talking.

"Hey, you in the hood," I hear from my left. Turning, I see the sapling standing in a group by the wall. Now that they are closer, I can see that not only are the heavily armored; they are heavily armed also. Two wield swords and shield, one carries a stave, and a third has a long great sword strapped across his back. All of them look ready to use their weapons, and I find myself cursing those idiot wardens who let anyone through fully armed.

But I keep my opinion to myself, "Yes?" I say.

"Is anyone there?" One asks, his eyes piercing me, threatening me, and daring me to lie him.

In the mushroom, "anyone" is shaking her head, her eyes wide with fear, pleading for me not reveal her. I don't know who she is or what is happening, but something nags at me. A faint pulling sensation in my chest. A throbbing in my head. A burning in my veins. I don't know her; I owe this stranger nothing. I could turn her over to these arrogant saplings and be done with it – I'd be in the Grove by nightfall, her pink face a long forgotten memory.

"No," I say, "I was just looking at a bird."

The sapling with the great sword eyes me warily. He knows I'm lying, but is wondering whether calling me on it is worth the trouble. Already, the Wardens at the southern gate are watching the scene, ready to intervene if things get ugly.

He nods, "Alright, we'll leave you to your bird watching. Sorry to bother you."

All of them walk back up to the top of the wall, but stop directly above the mushroom the pink Sylvari is standing under. They didn't believe me, and with good reason. If I don't want to attract their attention again, I will have to be careful. I move closer to the small female, just out of eyesight of any peering eyes atop the wall. It is too much to hope I am out of earshot, but whispering never killed anyone, though it might if I am not cautious about it.

"So, little birdie, will you sing a song for me?" I say loud enough so the saplings can hear. They will think I am the dumbest liar whoever lived or the most insane one. Hopefully, they will think the latter.

The pink Sylvari doesn't say a word; she only stares at me as if I meant to kill her. Once again, I am reminded of how unfriendly I must look, but if I meant her harm, I would have handed her over to the saplings. Perhaps she thought I intended to do just that.

I whisper to her, careful not to let those above me notice, "I will not harm you, but if you do not tell me who you are and what you are doing, I cannot help you either."

There is a long moment of silence and above me, the saplings are talking again. They are not worried about my "bird," but if I give them any reason to, they will be down in the blink of an eye. Whatever the pink Sylvari is up to, it is obviously dangerous. Even if she does tell me what she is doing, I have no intention of helping her. I stay off the roads to avoid situation likes this, and just because I happen to walk into on doesn't mean I am going to see it through. Let thos foolish Wardens deal with this mess; there is a soft bed and a warm meal waiting for me in the Grove.

"I am doing research…"

Those were the words I heard. Barely a whisper. Barely a breath even, but they pull at me. The pull. The throb. The burn. They all return with that whisper, and I am rooted to the spot. It is the first Sylvari voice I have heard in two years that did not carry a threatening tone to it. Her voice isn't high or small like some females I have met; no, it is light. It floats on the air like a cloud or a ray of sunlight, hangs in my ears, and wraps itself around my head like a laurel or a halo.

"What are researching," I ask, though I don't remember saying the words. I just wanted to hear her speak again.

"Those saplings are members of the Court of Thorns, a new group within the Nightmare Court. I am researching them, trying to learn more about them."

That ugly name came off her lips and it did not float like her other words. It fell like a stone, bringing me back to the earth, back into the depths of the dark forest. My bow feels like stone again, and my shoulders droop beneath the weight. Ahead, I see the paths leading off a cliff; above, I hear the courtiers talking. It will take no more than a second. The blink of an eye. The pull of a heart. The throb of a mind. The time to choose is drawing near. I wanted to put it off – a day, maybe two, by going to the Grove, give myself time to think, time to decide, but I won't get an opportunity like this again. It will take no more than a second.

The pink Sylvari must see the unease on my face. She looks into my eyes – the first time without fear, and asks if I am alright.

What should I say? Should I lie again? Get used to it. I will be doing a lot of lying once I jump off the cliff; I will be doing many things I won't be proud of. Horrible things. What is one lie now? To a stranger? But no. There is something in her eyes; some emotion I cannot place, perhaps because I have never felt it. It's as if she truly cares about me, about the distress she sees in me – me, a stranger. What kind of being is this? She is everything I am not; going out of her way to learn about a new enemy, risking her life, and even showing genuine compassion to a stranger. Why? Why do such foolish things? And why can't I lie to this fool?

"Perhaps I should go speak to them," I say.

Fear returns to her eyes – good, that's an expression I can lie to – as she asks, "Why?"

But I can't lie, dammit, "To – to join them."

Hey eyes take on a sudden sharpness, "Once you turn to the Nightmare, there is no going back."

Her expression and her words shame me, and I can no longer look into her eyes, but it doesn't help. I feel them piercing the leather of my hood, not in the way the Courtier's eyes had; there is no threat in her gaze, only compassion, a sharp compassion that cuts like a dagger and cleaves like an axe.

"I know," I say, "But I have no other choice."

"You always have a choice," She says.

I shake my head; she doesn't know about the dark forest. She couldn't know. She had not been there in that black wood. It is true; I had a choice once, but in the dark forst took it away long ago. It took it away when I awoke from the Dream two years ago to wander Tyria. It took it away each night when the white invaders killed me in my sleep. It took it away when every breeze carried the call of those black trees.

"The dark forest?" She asks, obviously puzzled.

What? Had I said that aloud?

I sigh, "Yes, the dark forst from my dream. I was in a forest was everything was black as pitch, and in my dream, I defended it from white invaders, white as the forest was black. When I awoke, I set out to find that forest; I travelled across Tyria searching for it. I never found it, and I had given up hope. That is, until I heard about the growth of the Nightmare Court. If the dark forest is not a physical place, then perhaps it is a symbol: that I am meant to join the Nightmare."

After I finish, she remains quiet, pondering my Dream. I don't who this Sylvari is, but I don't like her. She holds some power over me like a witch, making me tell the truth, causing me to help others, and forcing me to say things I have told no one else. Never in my life have I mentioned my dream to anyone, but this stranger somehow forced me to speak secrets I guarded more closely than my own life.

"This is a strange dream," She began, "But just because you see shadow in your dream does not mean it is the Nightmare. You believe this Dark Forest is a real place?"

"I have staked my entire life on it."

She looks at me sharply, "I may know a place, if you are willing to let me take you there."

"A place for what?" I ask.

"To look for the dark forest, I have traveled across Tyria, and there is one place that remind me of your description of this dark forest. It is called Aurora's Remains on the western edge of the Wildlands. If you choose to join the Court, I cannot stop you – that is your own decision, but perhaps the place I am thinking will be what you seek."

"Well—" I begin to say, then stop.

To go with her is madness. In the Wildlands, she can kill me a hundred way before I can defend myself. Above me are the courtiers – I have only to say the word. To the south is the Grove – I have time to decide. Before me it the cliff, all the paths I might take leading into the abyss. All but one. One paths turns to the West and continues beyond my line of sight; it might lead to death or to joy or to disappointment or to satisfaction. I don't know, can't know, only decide.

"Yes," I say, "I will go with you."

She sighs with relief, "Thank the Pale Tree. Then let's go."

"Go?" I ask, "It will take days to reach the western border of the Wildlands, and I hardly have any food. Not to mention I'm out of arro—"

"We will not be walking," She says, and so saying, pulls a scepter from the belt of her robe. I should have known; she is a witch.

"Wait," I say, "Before we go, tell me your name."

"I am Moriba," she tells me, "And you are?"

"Ollathir. Ollathir Hemlock."

"Then let us be off, Ollathir," And we disappear in a flash of light.

To anyone with any imagination, Aurora's Remains certainly seems to be a dark forest. A small wood grows in a deep ravine, the high stone walls casting an endless shadow over the forest. Like the plants that grow in Caledon and in the Grove, those here give off a slight radiance in the darkness; pale greens, blue, and reds cast an unearthly light within the wood itself, creating strange shadowy effects. Through the center of the ravine there runs what once must have been a small river but is now just a stagnant swamp like the rest of the Western Wildlands. Even though I travelled through these lands before, I never knew that such a place existed. Apparently, this ravine is well hidden except from the most prying of eyes. It makes me wonder what other places I have missed on my travels, and if the dark forest is not hidden away in some cave or ravine somewhere, waiting for me.

The shadows are deeper than they were when we left Caer Astorea, and looking up, I am startled to see that night has already fallen here. Overhead, countless stars sparkle, and I can see the light of the moon just over the lip of the ravine. Since the Wildlands are well to the west of Caledon, the sun should be higher here than it had been before we left. What was here name? Moriba? Yes, that was it – I asked Moriba about this.

"Teleporting over such a great distance causes a distortion not only in space but in time as well. The longer the distance, the greater the distortion. I would say that it is has been at least four hours since we left Caledon."

"Where were we for those four hours?" I ask.

She thinks about that question for a moment, then shrugs, "I am not entirely sure. Not quite in Caledon, not quite here. Perhaps somewhere in the middle?"

"That's reassuring," I say.

Moriba nods quietly, "I admit I don't know everything about the world, even about myself and my own abilities, but what I don't know, I try to learn. So, this is Aurora's Remains. What do you think?"

Even though I already took a complete survey of the area, I look around the ravine for the effect. Out of the corner of my eye, Moriba watches me expectantly. I don't know how she wants me to react. Maybe I should feign surprise or admiration, but somehow, that would feel like lying. Even though I still don't know why, I can't bring myself to lie to her. It might have something do with her abilities – it's possible she is manipulating me. I'd best be on my guard.

"It is beautiful," I say, "But this is not the dark forest of my dream; though, I admit I can feel an ancient power here."

"Don't make up your mind quite yet," She tells me, "I still have one other thing to show you. Your description of the white invaders reminded me of something here. Have you heard the tales of the White Mantle?"

We walk deeper into Aurora's Remains. I begin to notice movement in the foliage around us, a rustle in the trees here or a splash of water there. It feels like we are surrounded by other creatures but cannot see them. I grip the hilt of my sword, ready to defend myself if something should attack us, and that included Moriba herself. I am not entirely certain her intentions are pure, and after seeing her ability to teleport us hundreds of miles, I know I cannot take her lightly. She would make a powerful foe. Or a powerful ally.

We stop on a cliff overlooking the lowest part of the ravine, and I see humans locked in combat with one another. Although, they are not entirely like the humans I have seen elsewhere. Their bodies glow with a faint, blue light, as if they were made of mist or water rather than flesh and bone, and their forms quiver like heat waves. They remind me somewhat of the white invaders from my dream; though, like the wood, it is only what others would think the white invaders looked like. Still, the resemblance is uncanny enough to make my skin crawl. My shoulder throbs where the invader's axe had cut me the previous night.

Moriba points toward the humans, which I take to be ghosts, "The White Mantle was a group of humans who ruled Kryta hundreds of years ago. They used the power of a lost race, the Mursaat to dominate their own kind. It was not until a Chosen one broke their power that Kryta was able to grow into the great kingdom it is today. I thought they might be the white invaders you saw in your dream. Their spirits haunt this place, locked in eternal combat."

"An interesting story, to be sure, but they are not the white invaders and this is not the dark forest. I wish it were so simple. I fear the dark forest does not exist at all."

"Perhaps not," She says, regarding me calmly, "But many of the things we see in the Dream are not images of the real world, but symbols and metaphors for what we are meant to do when we awake. They help us on our journey, leading us in the right direction. There are so many paths we can follow, and the Dream helps us to choose the right one."

"And what did you see in your dream?"

"I saw a White Stag, who ran across the breadth of this world. Every moment just barely out of my reach. I was meant to save the stag, yes, which I did – though at a cost – but it also led me to travel across Tyria, learning everything I could. Seeing the world has taught me much."

I thought back to my travels. The icy winds of the Shiverpeak Mountains, the rolling hills of Kryta, the plains of Ascalon, yes, I had seen much; I had been many places, but I had not learned. Yes, I learned what the earth would teach me. I know the name of every plant, animal, and stone from the Maguuma Jungles to Dragonbrand, but I had not learned the way this female had. In her travels, she had gained something I had not. What was it? I said as much to her, asking for an explanation.

"There is a difference between traveling the world and seeing the world, Ollathir. There are so many different peoples in this world all with such rich histories and so much to teach us. We are such a young race, you know, and if we are to be a lasting race, we must learn from those who came before us."

The witch spoke the truth. I know that; it is clear as the night sky spread above us. I knew nothing of the world in which I lived. But how can I learn the things that she has learned? Perhaps I need others of my kind more than I first thought; perhaps I need a mentor, someone to guide me through this world – all its problems, its confusions, and its joy. Then, is the Nightmare Court just that? If I join the Court, they will guide me just as well as any Warden. I think back to the foolish Wardens at Caer Astorea, but then I think to arrogant courtiers who had threatened me. Which is the better choice? Which path is better? Which path is right?

"What about the Courtiers?" I ask, "Why were you spying on them?"

Moriba smiles, "Not spying, researching. I once lost a good friend to the Nightmare Court, and now, I do not want anyone to join them without first being given a choice. That is why I research them, I learn about them so I can stop them. I stop them so that no one else will ever fall to Nightmare, so that no one has to feel my pain."

"Is that why you are helping me?"

"Yes," She says, "There must be someone who cares about you, Ollathir, and I know that they would not want you to fall to Nightmare. Though, I suppose I haven't been much help."

"True," I said, looking at the sky, "You have given me far more questions than answers."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could answer your questions."

"You would if you could."

"Yes."

Suddenly, it occurs to me that there is one other path that I can take. My choices are not simply between the foolish Wardens and the arrogant Courtiers. Both of those paths do not strike me as very enticing; both of those paths lead right off the edge of the cliff, but there is another path. The one leading me off into the West, toward lands unknown. I cannot see where this third path leads; it extends far beyond my field of vision. It might end in my death, but then, I will die eventually anyway. Of course, jumping off the cliff will be certain death. It might end in my finding everything I am seeking; I know for a fact the paths leading off the cliff will not end in that. Then there is this witch. This pink Sylvari with a voice that sounds like light who has great power, but still fears a stranger in a cloak. There are the foolish Wardens and the arrogant Courtiers leading me off the cliff, and then there is her. She is traveling West, towards I know not where, but she will be far better company than the others. I have never wanted company before, but now, I find myself desiring to be in the company of this witch. This Moriba.

"Tell me, why would you risk your life to fight the Nightmare Court?" I ask.

"I believe I just told you: to stop them."

"You can help no one if you are dead."

"I will help no one if I do not help them."

"You are a fool."

"Perhaps," She says, "But someone must help them, Ollathir. Someone must stop the Court and help those who are in danger of falling to them."

I remove my hood, "Then you will need help. It will do no one any good if you die before you have finished your task."

She looks at me, confused, "What do you mean?"

"I am saying that I will help you. I will not join the Nightmare Court; instead, I will join you and fight them. This is the path I choose."

Moriba is quiet for a few minutes. Probably thinking about how to proceed. I have given her no reason to trust me thus far, other than not revealing her to the courtiers. For every opportunity she has to kill me, I will have just as many. To partner with me, a stranger, is ludicrous. I know she will not accept my offer, but I have to say it anyway. It is a part of the spell she now holds over me; the spell that forced me to offer her my aid; the spell that made me tell her the truth no matter what; the spell that pulled me toward the Western path and made me yearn for her company. How long has she been quiet now? Five minutes? Ten?

"I will accept your aid if you promise me something," She says.

"Of course, anything."

"You cannot tell anyone about my research." She says, her voice urgent, "If the Court were to find out, they would certainly kill me."

I imagined those courtiers we met at Caer Astorea, standing over Moriba's dead body, pierced by the arrogant one's great sword. The image sent chills down my arms. I turn to her and look her in the eye – the first person I have ever looked at without my hood on.

"I won't. I promise."

"Good."

There is a slight lapse in our conversation. Moriba is more likely than not considering what she should do or say next. I doubt she had any intention of bringing along another for such a dangerous undertaking; she certainly doesn't seem to be the type to put others at risk, even if it means her own safety. As for me, I don't know exactly what I should say to her. This is the first time I have ever partnered with another person, willingly or not, and I am not sure how to act around others. Still, Moriba and I are probably going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks; I have never been one for courtesy, but now is as good a time to start as ever.

I reach into my pack and pull out a flask of wine, "Would you like something to drink, Moriba?"


	2. Chapter 2: The Bloodstone Seekers

Several weeks passed after my first meeting with Moriba, and ironically, I found myself working with the Wardens in northwestern Caledon. At first, I simply helped them maintain their outposts – cleaning, repairing damages, and defending against occasional courtier attacks. Once they became familiar with me, I began going on scouting missions and delivering messages. They knew that I could handle myself in a fight or disappear into the jungle, so I often was sent through courtier territory. For some reason I can't place, the courtiers didn't scare me. Yes, I knew they could hurt me or even kill me, but after meeting Moriba, they lost their sense of mystery and power that I had once associated with them. The Nightmare Court is just a group of religious zealots, I realized. They are like the Soundless, albeit, a bit more dangerous. Either way, I no longer feel the pull of the Nightmare; it had been replaced by a stronger pull.

Moriba and I met in the Grove as often as we could. We would sit in the Dreamer's Terrace or in one of the Sylvari bars and discuss strategies for dealing with the Court, but more often than not, we simply sat and talked. She told me about many of her adventures and travels across Tyria, and I told her a few of my own stories. It was during one of our talks that the topic of the Pale Tree came up. We were sitting in the Terrace after a particularly long day. Moriba must have noticed how tired I was, although, it probably wasn't very well concealed. A day running through Hemlock Coil, dodging arrows, and being chased by courtiers will do that to a person.

"It is good to return to our roots once and a while and rest beneath the Mother's branches," She told me.

I chuckled at the comment; when she asked why, I told her I thought it was funny when Sylvari mentioned the Pale Tree as if it was alive and sentient. For a moment, she seemed taken aback, insulted even, but then she looked at me with that sharp gaze that I seemed to get every other day for something I said. I called it her witching gaze, because every time she looked at me like that, I felt that stranger pull in my chest.

"Ollathir, "She said quietly, "You do know the Pale Tree is real, right?"

Now that got my attention. Moriba had never, to my knowledge, lied to me;; so she had to be telling the truth now.

"It is?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Of course it is! You are sitting in its branches right now," She pointed toward one of the thick branches the Terrace was built upon, "How did you not know the Pale Tree is real?"

I shrugged, "I left the Grove as soon as I awoke, so I was never taught any of this. When I did meet Sylvari on my travels, I assumed they spoke of the Tree the way the humans speak of their gods or the norn speak of their spirits of the wild."

Moriba shook her head but smiled gently, "Then it will be a great moment when you meet her."

"Wait a minute," I said, "You can meet the Pale Tree? How?"

"You will see when the time comes."

Well, the time is come. Moriba and I walk together toward what I learned is called the Omphalos Chamber. The previous day, after dealing with a situation in the Mabon Market, a warden had arrived with a summons for me to meet the Pale Tree. Apparently, all my work in Caledon had not gone unnoticed by the Mother, and now, I am to meet with her in person. To say that I am nervous is a gross under exaggeration; out of all the things I have done in my life, I have never been as afraid as I am now. I can't place why I am so scared. Perhaps because only a week ago, I didn't even know the Pale Tree existed. I imagine this feeling would be similar to how a human would feel if they were invited to meet the gods. Unfortunately, the way into the Chamber does not ease my fear. Two Wardens stand guard in front of a seed pod the size of a Charr. The pod is hollow and shaped like a pear; one side is open to provide a way in, and atop it are florets like those of a dandelion. When Moriba and I walk up, the Wardens usher us into the cramped pod. The two of us barely fit into the seed, and I can feel Moriba's legs pressed against my own.

"So how does thi—"

Suddenly, the seed pod lurches into the air, carried by sharp gust wind. The air blows into the pod through small holes, blowing Moriba's and my clothes about as if in a whirlwind, which is exactly what it felt like. As suddenly as it started, it ends, and I realize my hand is gripping Moriba's arm. I can see her giggling at my reaction, and I quickly pull my hand back and smooth the wrinkles out of my cloak. We step out of the pod and arrive in another world; one made entirely of warmth and light. The ground beneath my feet is soft and springy like the thick moss that grows on river stones, and I feel the weariness drain from my feet. All around us, light green branches curl forming intricate patterns that filter the light and make the air glow. Moriba walks forward, I'm behind her when a high pitch yelp pierces the stillness, startling us both. We look down and see a newly awoken Sylvan pup chewing on my boot, trying to pull me with him.

"Oy! Get over here, you pup! Leave the visitors alone!"

The voice comes from a tall, lean Sylvari at the far end of the Chambers, surrounded by pups, all of them yipping, wagging their tails, and rombing with one another. The nibbler looks up at me and yips happily before running off to join his brothers and sisters. I may not be very intelligent or wise, but even I can see why others of my kind come here. It feels as if the air itself can heal. Moriba taps my arm, and I turn to her but stop short when I see whom she is pointing at.

The Pale Tree looks something like a Sylvari and something like what I always imagined the human gods look like. Her face is gentle and slender, much like Morib'as but even more so. She wears a dress like a great, beautiful flower, or perhaps, she herself is a flower eternally in bloom. Like her children, she glows, but unlike us, her entire body radiates light, enough to rival the sun itself. Her light fills the chamber and runs over the edge of the platform, falling into the Grove like a waterfall. I remember the first time I saw Moriba and thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Now, I realize that Moriba is beautiful because she reflects the Pale Tree. Like the tree, she is gentle and compassionate. If the Pale Tree rivals the sun then Moriba must rival the moon, reflecting the light of the Pale Tree and providing light in the darkness.

While my thoughts are occupied, Moriba walks forward and kneels before the Pale Tree. As for me, my feet feel like they are rooted to the spot, unable to move toward the tree out of fear, unable to move away out of awe. I hear the faint voice of the Mother as she greets Moriba and thanks her. Then, the Tree turns to me, smiles, and beckons me forward. I must walk over now; I must go to the Mother, my Mother. Taking a deep breath of the healing air, I walk toward her. When I reach Moriba, I drop to my knees, and I hear the Pale Tree's voice, soft and warm as a summer breeze:

"Thank you, my child, for your service to the Grove. It pleases me to see your dedication and courage, and it is a great relief to know you did not join those who would turn from the Dream. All of my children have a place in my heart, but you, Ollathir, you have my gratitude."

Then the Pale Tree leans forward and whispers in my ear, but what she tells me, I will never reveal.

After the Pale Tree thanks me, she and Moriba exchange a few more pleasantries while I stand quietly to the side, staring at a large stone hanging on the opposite side of the chamber. As we are leaving, I turn to Morib and ask her what the stone is.

She walks over and looks at the Tablet, "This is Ventari's Tablet. It contains the tenets that all Sylvari live by."

"Who was Ventari?" I ask.

"He was a centaur who, with a human name Ronan, planted the Pale Tree long ago."

A centaur? I never knew that the Sylvari had come from the alliance of a centaur and a human, and to think that we received all of our tenets from one as well. I think back to the centaurs I had met in my travels; they are tall and strong, all powerful warriors, all dangerous enemies. It is hard to imagine a race as gentle as the Sylvari coming from the hands of such a warlike race.

"Would you like me to tell you the tenets, Ollathir?"

I nod, "Yes, please."

Moriba's eyes become far away as she begins to speak the tenets of the Sylvari. It's like she is reaching far into her memory to draw out not just the tenets but every memory associated with them:

"Live life well and fully, and wasting nothing.

Do not fear difficulty. Hard ground makes strong roots.

The only lasting peace is the peace within your own soul.

All things have a right to grow. The blossom is brother to the weed.

Never leave a wrong to ripen into evil or sorrow.

Act with wisdom, but act.

From the smallest blade of grass to the largest mountain where life goes – so should you."

I don't know what to say in response. In all my life, I had never heard these tenets before. They had not guided my life. Where were the tenets in my Dream when I was lost in the dark forest? For that matter, where had the Pale Tree been? If she is so intertwined with the Dream, then why did she not reach out to me then? These thoughts fill me with anger; the light filling the Omphalos Chamber is now stuffy and irritates me. I want nothing more than to leave. Moriba seems to note my countenance fall, but does not protest when I ask to leave.

Back in the Grove, Moriba continues to keep an eye on me. I'm sure she can tell that I am angry, but isn't saying anything out of respect. Or maybe I am just placing my thoughts on her. Moriba may be a powerful Mesmer, but she can't read minds.

"Ollathir," She begins, "Do you mind if I ask for a favor?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"Tomorrow, I am joining members of my guild on an expedition into the Provernic Crypts. I was hoping you would be willing to join me."

I don't know where these crypts are, but this is the first time Moriba has asked specifically for my help. I am interested to find out what kind of research she actually does, and I especially want to know what kind of guild she is a part of.

"Yes, of course," I tell her.

She smiles, "Good. Meet me here tomorrow, just before dawn."

The next day, I find Moriba waiting for me just as she said. I don't know what is necessary for an expedition into a crypt; so, I stocked up on a little of everything I might need. My quiver is filled to bursting with arrows. My sword and dagger are freshly sharpened, and my shortbow has been restrung and oiled. In my satchel, I have a variety of tonics and poisons, a little something for any situation. As for Moriba, she carries only her scepter, a pistol, and a small bag that doesn't look very full; I begin to get the feeling that I over packed.

"Good morning, Ollathir," She smiles, "Are you ready?"

"Yes," I nod, "But where is this crypt?"

"It is in eastern Kryta, in a region called Gendarran Fields."

"Oh, are we teleporting there like before?"

Moriba laughs, "No, we will take the Asura Gate to Lion's Arch, then we will travel north from there to Ascalon Settlement, which is where we will meet my guild. You're sure you don't mind, Ollathir? Lumin will probably try to get you to join."

"Lumin?" I ask.

"Yes, he's the founder and leader of the guild. He has a habit of being—well, a bit forward when it comes to recruiting new members."

"Don't worry. I don't mind helping you on your expedition, and I don't mind joining your guild, especially if it will help you."

She regards me for a moment, probably trying to guess my intentions. I admit, it is a bit uncharacteristic of me to willingly work with others, but it is a guild after all. It's not like I'm going to be surrounded by Sylvari; there will be people of all races there, and that I can handle.

"Alright," She says finally, "Let's be off then."

The two of us make our way to the Asura Gate in the Grove. While Moriba talks to the Wardens guarding the gate, I watch the two Asruan operators squabble about something I don't understand. Hopefully, they aren't planning to perform any experiments on the gate while we are using it. I've heard tales of travellers being cut in half by an Asuran gatekeeper who was a tad too curious. I am not too keen on Asura gates. Not just because I don't trust those long-eared imps, but also because I don't trust magic. In all my travels, I only used an Asura gate once, and that was during an emergency evacuation in Ebonhawke. I won't lie that I find them unnerving. It is like jumping into a pond and coming out in another place. Sylavri have feet, and in my opinion, they should use them, not magic teleportation or mystic gates. Moriba just laughs when I tell her this.

Fortunately, we manage to make it through the gate in one piece and find ourselves in Lion's Arch, the "jewel of Tyria." I won't go into much detail about the city as quite frankly, there is too much to tell. It is organized mass chaos that smells like shit and salt and sounds like an endless bar fight. Everywhere you go are merchants, hawkers, crafters, travellers, scholars, soldiers, adventurers, citizens, Lionguard, and criminals, and all of them act like they own the place. A city of pirates, literally, and the sooner we leave, the better. Fortunately, Moriba is in a hurry to reach the Settlement, so we leave the city behind rather quickly.

The journey from Lion's Arch to Ascalon Settlement is rather uneventful; Moriba is quiet, something must be on her mind. For someone with such short legs, she walks quite swiftly when she wants to, and I have to jog lightly to keep up with her. Much like the rest of Kryta, Gendarran is a temperate region with rolling hills and fertile plains. In the center of the area is a large lake, to the east, the Krytan border overflows into the snowy Shiverpeak mountains. Unfortunately, as beautiful as Gendarran is, it, like most other parts of Kryta, is plagued by centaurs, bandits, and krait. It made me feel bad for the humans; well, almost.

Ascalon Settlement itself is actually quite a pretty little town. A thick stone wall surrounds about a hundred and fifty acres of cottages, cobblestone paths, and vegetable gardens. All around it are apple orchards and wheat fields, maintained by the few farmers brave enough to live outside the walls. The town was built at the foot of a hill, atop which is the Seraph's "Tomb of the Unknown Soldier." The tomb is a fifty-foot tall funeral pyre, always burning in honor of the human's dead. I don't understand why the humans feel comfort with a massive grave overshadowing their village, but then, there is little I understand about the humans. Perhaps, when I am done with the crypts, I will return to Kryta and try to learn what I can about this race that has ruled Tyria for so many millennia.

When we arrive in the town, Morba leads me to an abandoned cottage where her guild has set up a camp in the courtyard. Barrels of ale and crates of food surround makeshift tents, and the remains of a fire pit smolder in the basin of a dry fountain. As we walk up, I notice that nobody is there. I suppose they might have left without us, since it is already mid-morning, but Moriba doesn't seem to notice the absence of any people. If she does, she chooses not to show it. Instead, she walks up to one of the tents, and throws open the front:

"By the Pale Tree, Luxor, I told you I'd be here at ten o'clock. Don't tell me you are still sleeping!"

There is a stirring in the tent and an empty bottle of whiskey flies past Moriba's head, crashing against the tent opposite the one she is standing by. I can hear someone within both tents murmuring curses, one from Moriba's intrusion, and one from the bottle's. Moriba enters the tent, and I hear what sounds like a brief fight before Moriba comes back out, dragging a tall, dark blue Sylvari by his ear. The Sylvari's eyes, whatever color they normally are, a shot through with red from too much drinking. He is glaring at her, stumbling along as she drags him. Every few steps he trips and Moriba has to catch him, prompting him to let loose another series of curses. In the other tent, I can hear someone beginning to wake up as well, though much more calmly than this Luxor.

"Dammit, Moriba, I was just getting' to sleeping good. Can't you just wait 'til noon?"

Moriba drops him at the center of camp and moves on to the next tent, "If I left you to wake up on your own, we'd be heading off to the crypts sometime next week. Best to get up now. Go splash some cold water on your face, or better yet, go throw yourself in the river."

Luxor glares at her but obeys, stumbling over to a bucket of water. If he has noticed my presence, he does not show it, but based on how hung-over he is, I'd venture that he has barely noticed that he is washing his face with cooking oil. Seeing a drunk Sylvari has severely lowered my opinion of Moriba's guild. And Moriba is talking quietly to the Sylvari in the other tent. At least her reaction means that whoever is in there is not an incompetent drunk like this one. After a few moments, she walks back over to me and is followed by a striking, yellow Sylvari. Not only is the flamboyant color of his skin noticeable, but there is also the large mask he wears over his face, covering up even his eyes. Because of the mask, I cannot tell where he looking or even what he might be thinking. Apparently, the mask doesn't hinder his vision all that much because he faces me directly and smiles.

"Hello, my name is Lumin," He says, "You must be Ollathir Hemlock? Moriba has told me much about you."

I nod to him, still not sure I can trust him.

Lumin turns to Luxor and notices what he is washing his face with, "Luxor, stop making us look bad to the new recruit, go wash yourself off at the river."

Luxor turns to Lumin and then looks down at the bucket. Realizing his mistake, he walks off to the river, obviously still irritated at Moriba's rude awakening.

"I'm sorry about Luxor," Lumin says to me, "He is a good friend, but he does have a few bad habits."

I wave it off, "It's no big deal, but what did you mean by new recruit?"

Lumin looks at me; at least, I think he does. It's hard to tell with the mask, "Well, Moriba told me she was bringing a friend to help us on our expedition to the Provernic Crypts. I assumed this meant you would be joining our guild."

"No, I didn't agree to join your guild. I don't even know what your guild does."

Moriba stares at the ground quietly. Strange, other than waking them up, she seems to have gotten much more passive now that she is around the other members of her guild. I make a mental note to keep an eye on Moriba's behavior. I still don't know much about her, and this might be a good chance to learn things that she hasn't told me. As for Lumin, I know nothing about him. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders, but he is still a Sylvari, which means that he has to have a bit of foolishness in him. Granted, anyone who thinks that a stranger is going to join his your guild just because he shows up is a little foolish, but if that's the only flaw in him, I might be able to stand being around Lumin. As for the other Sylvari, Luxor, I still don't know.

"Quite right," Lumin says, "Since you're a friend of Moriba's, it's safe to assume we can trust you. We are the Bloodstone Seekers. Our guild's purpose is to research the bloodstones and attempt to find them."

I raise an eyebrow, "What are the bloodstones?"

"The bloodstones are ancient artifacts of great power. Over six thousand years ago, they were crafted by beings called Seers to contain all the magic of Tyria and to prevent the Elder Dragons from corrupting magic. Some believe that it was the creation of the Bloodstones that allowed the survival of a few members of those ancient races. Anyway, after the end of that dragon's cycle, the human gods came to Tyria, and they gathered up all of the artifacts of power into their holy city, Arah."

"The same Arah on Orr?" I ask.

"The very same," Lumin continues, "With the bloodstones, they gifted magic to the races of Tyria, but unfortunately, this led to great wars breaking out as each race attempted to gain the power for themselves. Finally, a certain human king named Doric went to the city of the gods and pleaded for them to take the magic away and stop the wars. The gods agreed and broke the bloodstones into five parts – four pieces ruled over their respective schools of magic, preservation, aggression, denial, and destruction. The fifth piece, the key stone, was sealed with Doric's blood so that only a member of Doric's blood line could put them back together. Hence the name the bloodstones."

"The gods placed the bloodstones in a volcano out in the Ring of Fire so that nobody could steal them. However, sometime after the gods left, the volcano erupted, spewing the bloodstones across Tyria. A few of the stones were found, and played a part in the Flameseeker Prophecies, but several are still missing, and it is our goal to seek them out. Thus, we are the Bloodstone Seekers."

I nod, "I see, and you think you can use the bloodstones to defeat the Elder Dragons?"

"Exactly, so what do you think? Will you join us?"

So there it is. Moriba didn't lie when she said Lumin was forward when it came to recruiting new members for the guild. Still, I didn't see much of a reason not to join. True, they aren't exactly an awe-inspiring lot. The one named Luxor still hasn't returned from his bath, and I can easily imagine him sitting by the riverbank, throwing up a long night of drinking. Lumin is a bit strange to say the least. The mask makes it difficult for me to tell what he is thinking, and his words always have a strange tone to them. Moriba seems to trust him though, so he can't be all bad. And of course, there is Moriba, the powerful Mesmer who becomes silent when she joins the group. If I expected to learn anything about her from this trip, it would be difficult if this silence is the norm. Even though she hasn't said anything, she is looking at me expectantly, obviously waiting for my response. Under any other circumstances I would have said no and walked away. After all, I had important things to do on my own, like…strangely enough, I can't think of anything important that I should be doing. Then I remember my promise to Moriba. I had told her that I would help her in anyway I could. If this then is the way I can help her, shouldn't I keep my promise?

I nod, "Yes, I will join you, but please don't consider me an honorary member quite yet. I still don't know if I can trust you. We have just met after all."

Lumin laughs, "Is it the mask? Don't worry about that, it isn't hiding much. I'm blind you see. I have been since the Dream. Oh, don't give me that look, Ollathir. I'm used to it by now. In fact, I sometimes feel like it has helped me see things in a way no one else can. Anyway, I accept those terms, and I hope, in time, you come to trust us. So, since we have that little bit of formality out of the way. Allow me to introduce the members of our guild. I am Lumin Sunsage, the founder and leader of the Bloodstone Seekers."

Lumin points behind me, and I turn to see Luxor walking back, freshly cleaned, and grinning wryly, "And that is Luxor Moonsbane, he is our guild's protector. He is in charge of everything sharp, pointy, and lethal."

"And I do a damned good job of it too," Luxor says. Even though he is sober, he still talks like a drunk, and I can tell that it's just his personality, like a pirate or a norn. If drinking is his only bad habit, then I think that I will be able to handle him. I nod to him, then realize that there are only four of us here, all Sylvari. If there were others, wouldn't Moriba have woke them?

"Is this the entire guild?" I ask.

"No," Lumin says, "Most of the other members have business elsewhere. We aren't a very formal guild, you see."

"And are they…?"

"Sylvari? Yes. Not that we are a Sylvari only guild. Just happened to work out like that."

I mumble to myself, "Fantastic, I've joined a salad bar."

"Salad bar?" Lumin repeats, chuckling, "Yes, I suppose we are something like a salad bar. Wouldn't be the first time we've been called that."

"Or that we've called ourselves that," Luxor says laughing.

Even Moriba is smiling a little.

"So, is it just us exploring these crypts?" I ask.

"Yes, and thank you for reminding me. It is getting quite late, and we should probably head out soon. Ollathir, if you and Luxor will go behind my tent, there are a couple bags that we will need to take with us. Just a little equipment we will use to investigate the crypts."

Luxor and I walk behind his tents – myself keeping a safe distance from the darker Sylavri – and sure enough, find two large bags full of vials, jars, shovels, and many other pieces of equipment I have never seen before. Both of us heave one bag onto our shoulders and carry it bag over to Lumin who has retrieved a staff from his tent. I quickly glance to Luxor and notice that he has a small dagger on his belt, as well as what look like a key, although I don't know what the latter might be.

"We will take turns carrying that if you two get tired," Lumin says, "Now, it will take us a good five hours to reach the crypts, and that is through centaur territory. I want to reach the entrance to the crypts before nightfall; we will camp out, and explore them in the morning. Everyone ready?"

I can't believe I allowed myself to be roped into this. How long had Moriba and I been in this village? And hour, maybe less? Somehow in that short of a time frame, I had been forced into joining a guild and somehow become said guild's pack mule. I am already beginning to miss those idiot Wardens back in Caledon.

Moriba walks over and gives me a warm smile, "Thank you for helping us, Ollathir. I know Lumin and Luxor can be a bit to take in all at once, but they are good people. I'm sure, if you give them time, you will come to trust them and maybe even like them."

That is the most Moriba had said all morning. I remembered our first meeting she had told me she was born of the cycle of dawn. Maybe she is just one of those who is irritable early in the mornings. That would be good to know for future reference. Lumin shouting for us to leave cuts my thoughts short, and I find myself bringing up the rear of the group, with Luxor and Lumin together in the front and Moriba in between us. As we leave the courtyard, we find ourselves face to face with a well-muscled Sylvari with a greatsword on his back. I am immediately reminded of the courtiers from the day Moriba and I had met. He grins at us sheepishly, and waves.

"Hello, I'm no interrupting, am I?"


	3. Chapter 3: The Provernic Crypts

I tense at the sudden intrusion of the stranger, and my hand moves toward my sword hilt. At least, it would if I wasn't holding this bundle. Right now I am completely defenseless, and so is Lux. If this person doesn't have friendly intentions, then it will be up to Lumin and Moriba to fight him. I look at the heavy great sword slung across his back – one good swing and he could kill all of us in a single mighty blow. I begin considering how I can stop him if it should come to a fight. If I throw the bag at him, it might give me enough time to draw my sword. That being said, I don't know if I can win a fight against such an imposing foe. Honestly, his blade will snap mine like a twig if it comes to that. The Sylvari is tall, pale colored with orange hair that seems to glow even in the daytime. Underneath his armor, I can see well-muscled arms, threatening to snap his mail. He is used to swinging that sword, that's for sure. This person, whoever he is, is a soldier – a fighter.

Lumin steps forward, "No, brother, but may I ask why you were watching us?"

"I am passing through, heading up to the Vigil Keep when I saw you're friend walking into the settlement. It's been a while since I saw others of my own kind," He scrutinizes our small group, "Especially so many at once."

"The Vigil, eh? So you're heading north?"

"Er, yes," The stranger says, "Why? Are you heading in that direction?"

I notice Luxor giving Lumin a "you-wouldn't-dare" look. What was that for? Unfortunately, I don't know much about lumen. Just that he is blind, leads a group called the Bloodstone Seekers, and that he has a bad habit of recruiti – oh no, he couldn't possibly be considering asking this strange to join us. Even for me being friends with Moriba, it was quite a stretch to allow me to join the guild. I am still expecting some kind of test or initiation after our expedition is over. But this person, this stranger, he could be anyone. Surely, Lumin isn't that bad –

"We are going on an expedition to the Provernic Crypts. We could use a strong guard to help us get through centaur territory. You can even join us in the crypts if you'd like."

It seems I have severely underestimated Lumin. This entire guild is full of drunks and imbeciles, and I have willingly allowed myself to become a part of it. Pretty soon, I am going to start acting like one of them. I can already feel my competence draining away. Still, if Lumin is going to be an idiot, I will just have to make up for it; I will keep an eye on this stranger and make sure he doesn't try anything. I may not know much about crypts, but I do know that they are dangerous. This stranger will have ample opportunities to kill us on the road ahead, and if he tries, I have to be ready to kill him first. For a half moment, I realize how sad it is that I can't trust others of my own kind, even all the way in Kryta, but this is no time to be getting sentimental. Leave those thoughts to the fools in the Grove.

"My name is Lumin Sunsage, and you are?"

"Aeryion," The stranger says.

"Names Luxor," the now-sober protectors says, still a bit irritated by Lumin's willingness to invite a stranger along. I wonder how he feels about my being here.

Moriba smiles at the newcomer, "And I am Moriba."

I nod curtly to him, still suspicious, "Ollathir."

Aeryion smiles and bows to our group, "It is a pleasure to meet all of you. And yes, I will accompany you to the Crypts. I have always been curious as to what's inside, but I usually leave the research and exploring to Priory members."

"Then it will be an adventure for all of us," Lumin says smiling, "Let's be off. We have much ground to cover. If we travel quickly, we should reach the entrance by nightfall."

Our group then leaves Ascalon Settlement after Lumin exchanges a few words with the Seraph captain. The Seraph ensures him that nobody will bother their camp, and that he will have a his men check it every once in a while to be sure. Lumin thanks him and we walk north. The path between Ascalon Settlement and the Provernic Crypts is familiar to me, as I walked only a few weeks ago. I had been in this area just before I left for the Grove, when I met Moriba. Lumin and Aeyrion walk in the front, chatting about the Vigil and other small talk. Following them is Moriba, who walks quietly, not joining the conversation of the two in front of her. Even though she doesn't she it, I wonder if she is suspicious of Aeyrion as well. In the back, Luxor and I walk in silence, less because we don't feel like talking and more because our large bags weigh us down. Looking up, I see that the sun has just barely reached its zenith, meaning that there was still almost six hours until nightfall. Luxor and I are both covered in sweat and out of breath. It is going to be a long six hours.

The further north we go, the more the rolling hills of Kryta become the jutting stones of the hinterlands, and it is obvious that the territory is no longer friendly to humans or travellers. This path is now dirt, hard packed from constant travel by heavy-hoofed beasts. It doesn't take a scholar to know that we have entered centaur territory. Everyone is visibly on edge. The path is in a valley between to rocky hills, atop which is a small orchard, long abandoned by its original planters. Because of our position, the centaurs could be only a few feet in the trees and we would never see them. Lumin and Aeryion are no longer talking, not willing to give up our position to any nearby enemies. Without the Seraph, this area has gone become a veritable wilderness. It's difficult to believe that Ascalon Settlement and Nebo Terrace are only a few hours walk from where we are. The humans may be a powerful race, but they are not a lasting one. When they fall, even their ruins are devoured by the earth. One day, they will be forgotten. Will the Sylvari suffer the same fate?

"I don't like how quiet it is," Aeryion says, "Normally, I would have run into at least one squad of centaurs by now."

Lumin hushes him and looks around nervously, his knuckles white from gripping his staff. What had him in a fit?

"What?" Aeryion asked, "I am just saying—"

An arrow pierces the ground by his feet, cutting his sentence short. I look at carefully, how deep the shaft lies in the hard dirt and what angle it is to the ground. Whoever shot the arrow is somewhere behind us, on the right side of the road – very close to the road, I should add. Lumin and Aeryion both jump away from the arrow, startled and searching for its source. I drop my bundle and point toward the woods:

"There!" I shout, but it's already too late. The heavy thumping of hooves and the deep, guttural voices of centaurs as they spring out of the trees drowns my voice out. There is a moment of confusion for our group. Dust and arrows fill the air as we all throw ourselves to the ground.

In the confusion, I try to drop my bundle, but end up getting tangled in it instead. While I try to get away from the heavy bag, I feel a powerful gust of wind throw me back to the ground, further tangling me in the bag. The wind seems to be made of purple energy rather than true wind; at first I think that Moriba must be doing something, but I can see her lying low to the ground, trying to pull her pistol from its holster. Behind me, I can barely make out Lumin with his staff raised, the wind emanating from him. The fierce wind blows the dust away and knocks the centaur's arrows out of the air, knocking the warriors back a few steps. Thanks to the chaos storm, our group rallies and begins to attack back at the centaurs.

Aeryion draws his sword and rushes two of the centaurs, knocking back both their blades and cleaving one in half from shoulder to hip. The other, raises his shield and takes up a defensive stance. Instead of attacking this one head on, Aeryion runs jukes to the left, running his blade into the flank of the centaur's horse half. The beast stumbles forward from the blow but manages to lash back with his sword, biting into Aeryion's steel gauntlet but unable to pierce it. Using the sword's momentum, the Sylvari wrenches the centaur's blade from his grip, then lops off the centaurs head with a one-handed swing of his great sword.

Two more warriors begin screaming in pain, acrid black smoke surrounding them, burning their flesh and causing pieces of skin to fall to the ground as if they were being flogged. The smoke moves with a life of its own, floating off the bodies of the centaurs and swirling through the air as if in a small tornado. Eventually, the tendrils of smoke meet Luxor's fingers, drawing the dark energy into his body. After a few moments of this agony, the centaurs collapse to the ground, their bodies pale, drained of life force.

Finally, I manage to pull myself free of the bag and I unsheathe my shortbow. Four centaur archers stand, firing arrows at our group, all of them being knocked back by a gust of chaos from Lumin. I notch an arrow, but before I can fire, Moriba appears in front of me, wielding her pistol – that is, two Moribas appear in front of me, wielding pistols. The phantasms of the small, pink Sylvari unload their pistols at the remaining archers. As each bullet connects, the centaurs rear back, covered in blood. Two of them fall immediately from the volley of phantasmal bullets, but the other two turn to flee. After a few feet, one of the feeling centaurs collapses, his body riddled with bullet holes. The final centaur somehow managed to escape the majority of the bullets and is already far beyond the range of any of the others. I notch a single arrow and fire it into the air. The arrow flies in a high arc before coming down almost vertically into the centaur's neck. All in all, our group of five killed eight centaurs, their bodies lying lifeless around us, and the dirt path dark red with their blood.

Lumin looks at the scene and shakes his head, "We need to leave. If another group of them sees this, they will hunt us to Divinity's Reach and back."

Everyone nods and begins to warily reform the original line. Luxor and I heave our packs up to our shoulders, carrying them like a wounded animal, and Aeryion cleans the blood off his sword with one of the centaur's loin cloths. For the next half hour, we alternate between jogging forward, constantly looking behind us, and standing completely still so Lumin can listen for anything nearby. Apparently, according to Luxor, he has some kind of super-hearing because of his blindness. Well, more power to him. If another group of centaurs gets the drop on us, I will know whom to blame.

Fortunately, we don't run into any other centaurs on our way to the crypts. The closest that we come is when we pass by the centaur's encampments, their siege weapons piercing the sky like the skeleton of some hideous beasts. In order to avoid being bombarded by catapults and arrows, Lumin, Moriba, and I use shadow magic to make us invisible for a short while, and we manage to slip past without any problems. After that, our walk to the Crypts is rather leisurely; at least, it is for those of us who aren't carrying heavy packs. Lumin and Aeryion strike up their old conversation, and this time, even Moriba joins in. Luxor and I hang behind, lugging our bags, and scowling at everything that moves; at least I'm not alone in my misery.

And that's how the guild reached the crypts four hours before sunset. When we finally arrived, Luxor and I collapse against the stones near the entrance, both of us exhausted from out burdens. The entrance to the crypts isn't nearly as impressive as I had originally imagined. Instead of a great, ruinous temple – like I had thought – there is only a few shattered pillars and one big hole in the dirt. Near the entrance, stale air that smells of rot and mold filters out, filling the area around the entrance with the scent of death and decay. I ask if there is any way we could make camp somewhere else that is near the crypt. Lumin told me that it is safest near the entrance because it keeps the centaurs and ettins away. Great, as if centaurs aren't bad enough, now we have to deal with ettins. To be sure, I can hear the deep, rumbling voices of ettins just to the west of us. The crypt was built into a natural cave, so they probably lived in similar caves nearby. Still, I will take a bad stench to those lumbering monsters any day. However, based on what Lumin and Luxor are saying, we may not be camping at all.

"It's early enough that we could make our way to the central chamber of the crypt before nightfall," Lumin is saying.

"Yes," Luxor says, irritated, "But then we'd have to sleep in the crypt. We'd have no way of getting back out until dawn."

"Once we disable the traps, that won't be a problem."

"If we disable the traps, every treasure hunter north of Lion's Arch will come flooding into this crypt looking for gold. Then where would we be?"

"You've never had a problem with treasure hunters before, Luxor."

"I have a problem when they steal my treasure."

"Then we leave the traps active and camp in the crypt. You're a necromancer, what's a few dead humans to you?"

"Just because I can control the dead doesn't mean I want to sleep with them."

"Why not? You sleep with everything else."

"Yes, including—"

Lumin cuts him off at that point, covering Luxor's mouth, "I think that's quite enough. We will get nothing done, arguing like this, and I want to get as much research done as we can, and there is no time like the present. If it makes you feel better, we will leave the traps active to prevent any grave robbers from following us, but we are going in."

Luxor sighs, he and I are exhausted from the trip, and I know that I don't want to go any further today than I have to. Granted, I see Lumin's point. It will be safer in the crypt itself, and we can get a lot more done, whatever it is we're doing. Lumin takes Luxor's sigh as a sign of agreement and walks into the opening of the crypt. Aeryion and Moriba follow suit, and Luxor and I wearily plod on behind them.

The crypt itself is just as unimposing as the entrance. The rough stone entryway turns into a carved atrium after about fifty feet, though the stones that make it up are old and worn away by water and mold. Under my feet, the floor feels slick and spongy, making it difficult to walk. If this is how the entire crypt is, we are in for an uncomfortable night. Just beyond the atrium is a set of stairs, leading deeper into the crypt. However, it is too dark to see how far down they go; once you leave the atrium and the entryway, the crypt is filled with subterranean darkness. I hate cities; I hate the crowds of people and sickly sweet stench of garbage and refuse, but more than any of that, I hate caves. Inside caves, away from the sky, with no trees or plants, I felt vulnerable. True, I am used to darkness – that's not what unnerves me. It's the feeling that the walls and ceiling and floor are caving in on you, compressing you into a little ball, then crushing you into jelly. I think the humans called it…claustrophobia. Yes, that's the word. I take a deep breath as we reach the center of the atrium. Now isn't the time to let my nerves get the better of me.

"We have been here once before," Lumin says, "So we know must of the traps, but each time we leave, they reset themselves. I am beginning to think that this crypt is cursed, but it's probably nonsense. A good engineer can make traps that reset themselves without any problem."

Luxor grins, looking more like a sneer in the half-light of the atrium, "We should have just brought explosives like I said. No walls means no traps."

"It also means nothing left to research. The first set of traps is on those stairs, there are pressure plates that will cause those lion facets to spew burning oil at you. If it gets on you, it will take your skin right off."

"How do we get passed it?" I ask.

Lumin taps his staff against the floor, and it begins to glow with a ethereal light, illuminating us and the atrium and tinting everything a violet hue. Below us, I can see that the stairs only go down about twenty feet – if rather steeply. Just as Lumin said, there are lion heads carved from stone on each side of the wall; their fangs are blackened from where flames had previously been spewed out. I wonder how many foolish explorers those lions had devoured in their time. Lumin walks forward, right to the top of the stair well and released a small whirlwind of energy. The floor around his feet glows with same light that comes from his staff, and that, earlier, colored the wind of his chaos storm.

"Moriba, if you please?" The yellow Sylvari says.

Moriba nods, walks forward, and places her hand on Lumin's shoulder. I don't know why, but the gesture does not sit well with me. It makes my stomach turn over as if I had eaten chokeberry bark. Still, I don't protest; after all, they know what they're doing, and I don't. Suddenly, Lumin and Moriba disappear, leaving behind a faint after image. The atrium becomes as dark as it had been before Lumin illuminated it with his staff. I begin counting. One. Two. Three. Four. Moriba and Lumin reappear at the base of the stares, the light from his staff shining back up at us, casting ghastly shadows against the far wall. He releases another small whirlwind of energy, similar to the one at the top of the stairs, then calls out:

"Step onto that circle and it will teleport you down here with us. Don't worry, just walk onto it very naturally, and you'll be fine."

Luxor walks forward, still carrying his large pack, and as soon as he steps onto the glowing spot, he disappears the same way Moriba and Lumin did before, reappearing at the base of the stairs. Aeryion follows him, a bit cautious at first, then simply shrugs and walks onto the spot. The process repeats itself. I am the only one left and I hear Lumin call out to me.

"I hate magic," I mumble to myself, then step onto the spot and find myself standing in front of the others. Like with Moriba, the teleportation seems instantaneous, but the others had waited exactly four seconds for me to reappear. Twenty feet of teleportation equals four seconds of time dilation. That's one second per five feet. I wonder if a person could use that equation to determine distances accurately; perhaps it would be a good trick for a mapmaker or architect. Lumin smiles at me when I arrive:

"You'd best get used to magic, Ollathir," He says, "Most of the seekers are quite adept at it."

Damned blind Sylavri with your freaky hearing.

At the bottom of the stairwell is another small hallway; this one is lined with stone coffins on each side. Cobwebs stretch across the path, from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall. As we walk forward, Aeyrion leads the way, using his sword to cut through thick webbing. The hall is about a hundred feet long – 20 seconds of time dilation. The entire length of it is lined with those stone coffins, inside of which are the remains of humans. I can't help but think back to Ascalon Settlement and the centaur territory. Wherever one goes in human lands, death is nearby. Even in their capital city, Divinity's Reach, there is an entire section of the city dedicated to their god of death. Why do humans have such a fascination with death? For that matter, why do I?

At the end of the hall is a large empty room, twice the size of the atrium, with a large vaulted ceiling. The crypt must have taken us into the nearby hillside. Aeryion begins to walk forward, but Lumin puts his hand out to stop him. He then takes an apple from the bag Luxor's carrying and tosses it into the middle of the room. It hangs in the air for a few seconds before landing with a slight thud about ten feet in. The moment it lands, several rows of metal spikes rise up, skewering the apple and ripping it apart. Seems the entire floor is rigged with pressure plates so that anywhere you step leads to a slow and painful death.

Aeryion looks at Moriba, "So, you just teleport us to the other side, like you did with Lumin."

She shakes her head, "No, I'm afraid I can only teleport to places I can see or have seen in the past. Besides, I wouldn't have enough energy to teleport everyone."

The warrior turns to Lumin, "Alright, you're a Mesmer, and you've seen it before, so you do it."

"Sorry, but I am not as skilled at teleportation as Moriba. I'd be likely to teleport you into the wall."

"Then how did you get through here last time?"

"We had an elementalist with us that time. He created a stone bridge for us to cross over unharmed."

"Why didn't you bring him this time?" Aeryion asks.

Lumin rubs the back of his neck, "He had other business to attend to."

"And Lumin didn't think we'd need any help," Luxor adds.

While they are arguing, I look up to the top of the large room and notice a series of wooden beams running through the roof, almost forty feet up. They are the thick, oak kind used in mines to prevent cave ins, and despite how long they have been there, they don't appear to be rotting at all. If they were, this room would have caved in long ago, blocking any further passage. I set down my bundle and take an arrow out of my quiver. To the end of it, just behind the head, I tie my scorpion wire, making sure to knot it tightly. I notice Moriba watching me work and I point to the roof. She looks up and smiles, then turns back to the arguing trio. I notch the arrow and fire it up into the wooden beam above us. After a few test pulls, I take a few steps back and then swing over the trapped room. Fortunately, my scorpion wire is just long enough to reach the opposite hallway, which is just barely illuminated by Lumin's far away staff.

"Hey!" I call out, and everyone looks over at me, "Are y'all coming or not?"

One by one, everyone swings over, along with the two heavy bags. Unfortunately, my arrow is sunk pretty deeply into the beam over head, so there is not way I am getting my wire back. Instead, we tie the end of it to the inner hallway for us to use when we leave and continue on, deeper into the crypt. So far, I haven't been very impressed with the expedition. Sure, it is fun, dodging traps and fighting centaurs and exploring dark caves, but I guess I was expecting more of a challenge. We had gotten past everything so far, and nobody in our group had so much as a flesh wound. Ahead, I can see a faint light filtering in from an adjacent room, and I notice that wall has been knocked down on either side of the original entrance. Pieces of rubble lie all around this section of the crypt, but there are no blast marks from explosives. Either something had come in here with a very big hammer or something very big had hammered its way in.

Lumin turns to us before we reach the opening and whispers, "Alright, this is the most dangerous part of all. A spider queen lives in that room there, uses it as her nest. First, we need to slip past the entrance to reach the mechanism that opens the door to the inner sanctum; then, we need to slip past her and shut the door in her face. Everyone understand?"

We all nod, and the group quickly sprints past the opening, Lumin last, hiding the light of his staff with a piece a thick leather cloth. As we run by, I look into the room and see the queen. The room itself is much like the large one we just left, but the walls are lined with freshly spun webs as well as egg sacks, which moved every once in a while. At the top of the room, a large whole had been knocked in the ceiling, allowing the fading light of the sunset to filter into the room, casting a fiery glow on everything. The queen herself is, quite frankly, just a giant spider. Not much to describe, except maybe all the venom dripping off her fangs. Or the way her eyes eyes glow red in the light of dusk. Or the corpse of the Ettin she is slowly devouring as we walk by. Nope, not much to describe there.

On the other side of the entrance, we stop in front of two large stone plates, slightly raised from the rest of the floor.

"These pressure plates open the door to the inner sanctum," Lumin tells us, "We have to put something on them to keep them weighed down, and that will do the trick."

Aeryion begins looking around for a few pieces of loose stone to place on the plates, but Lumin waves him off, "No worries, we've come prepared. Luxor, Ollathir, let's take a look in those packs you've been carrying."

The two of us dropped our packs and sighed with relief. Those massive things had been weighing down on us since we left Ascalon settlement, and both of us are ready to have them off. Lumin opens the bundles and begins fishing through them for…something. Then, everyone – Luxor and myself especially – watch, flabbergasted, as Lumin pulls a stone the size of a raccoon out of each of our bags and places them on the pressure plates. The plates slowly sink down into the surrounding stones under the wait of the rocks. Both of us glare at Lumin.

"You made us carry rocks all the way from Ascalon Settlement?" I ask.

Lumin shrugs, "I wasn't sure if there would be any big enough here in the crypt. Besides, you're alive, aren't you?"

Luxor lets loose a string of curses at Lumin. Moriba puts her faces in her hands. Aeryion stifles a laugh. And I simply stand there speechless. I had spent the last six hours carrying a hundred pound rock across Gendarran Fields. I couldn't believe that Lumin made us do this. Sure, I don't really know if this is the usual for him, but still, who makes people carry rocks across Kryta? What kind of guild is this.

"Anyway," Lumin says, "We have bigger problems right now. Let's get past that—"

A portion of the wall explodes, tossing shattered stones on us and cutting off Lumin. We all turn to see the queen spider rounding the corner, shrieking at our group. There is a short moment where everybody just stares at the spider, wondering what the hell is happening, but we quickly recovered our senses, and dodged past it as it jabbed a steely leg at the spot we had been standing in. The end of its leg jabbed into the stone, cutting through it like it was made of butter and pulled back out, ripping the stones apart. We ran back, away from the plates and away from the entrance to spider's lair. As quickly as we had dodged her, the spider turns around and begins chasing us down the hall.

As we retreat, Lumin, Luxor, and Moriba shoot bolts of magic at the creature. Dark energy and chaos strike the spider, charring the hair off the creature and leaving black burns but lacking the force to pierce its outer shell. I try firing arrows, but they simply bounce harmlessly off the queen, only to be crushed under her feet. Aeryion has his great sword out, but cannot get close enough to her to use it, although that will change very quickly. Ahead of us, I can see the trapped room; the queen will corner us and pick us off one by one. One or two of us might be able to escape on the wire bu—

The wire!

When we reach the entrance to the trapped room, the spider is thirty feet back, charging at us furiously. Lumin and Moriba create several illusions in front of us, temporarily slowing its progress, but it will tear through them eventually, and then she will have us. Luxor is gathering the life force he absorbed from the centaurs into a ball of dark energy, preparing to toss it at the best. I move beside Aeryion.

"How brave are you, warrior?" I say to him.

He raises an eyebrow, "Why? What do you have planned?"

I point at the wire, "If one of us can get her attention, they can swing over the pit, and when she follows…"

Aeryion smiles, "Got it, and my sword's the only thing big enough to piss her off. I'm on it."

The Vigil Warrior charges forward past Moriba and Lumin's illusions and unleashes a flurry of slashes on the spider queen, each on barely cuts her outer shell, but it definitely gets the creature's attention. She rears back her legs and tries to bring them down on Aeryion, but he rolls backward, parrying one of her legs with her sword. While he keeps her occupied, I untie the wire from the post and hold it out, ready to hand it to him when he runs back past. Aeryion leaps to his feet and lets loose another flurry of slashes. It seems impossible that such a massive weapon can move so fast, but somehow, he is doing it. After one more roll and parry, Aeryion turns and sprints back down the hallway toward the rest of the group, the spider on his trail, shrieking with rage at the warrior.

"Everyone out of the way!" He shouts, as he runs past us. Moriba, Lumin, and Luxor shrink against the wall as the spider runs past them as well, completely ignoring them in its fury. When Aeryion reaches me, he snatches the wire from my hands and soars into the chamber. The spider runs past me, and I barely have time to step out of its way as it runs into the chamber. Just like the apple, there is a short pause as it enters the chamber, then the spikes shoot out of the ground piercing through the creature's legs and body. Green fluid pours onto the ground, and the spider's shrieks echo through the chamber as the parts of its legs twitch and flail helplessly. A long moment of this madness passes before the queen goes silent. Aeryion swings his body back and forth until he builds up enough momentum to reach the hallway again. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he collapses.

"Well," He says, out of breath, "That was fun."

I offer him my hand and he pulls himself to his feet. The others walk forward, looking at the spider queen's body then at Aeryion.

"That was very…er, brave," Lumin says.

Luxor smacks Aeryion on the back, "Brave and stupid. I like this one already."

Moriba walks over to me and looks at the spider, "That was very clever, Ollathir. How did you know the spikes would kill the queen?"

I shrug, "I didn't."

Lumin turns to me and shakes his head, "You risked Aeryion's life on a hunch?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, he's alive, isn't he?"

The blind Sylvari sighs, "Very well. Let's just get to the inner sanctum before anything else happens."

The five of us make our way back to the entrance to the queen's lair. Beyond the thick webs and egg sacks, I can see a large wooden door, opening into a dark room beyond. It's no wonder the queen knew someone was here. Even for a giant spider, it's hard to not notice the entire left side of the room opening up. Luxor and I go and gather the now much lighter bags and we all walk into the inner sanctum of the crypt. At least, I think it's supposed to be the inner sanctum. So far the crypt has been pretty disappointing, but honestly, this has to be a joke. The inner sanctum is a large, empty room, mostly destroyed and filled up to our ankles with water. Large slash mark and burn marks crisscross the walls, some covered with mold or vines growing in from a hole in the roof. One side of the room is an old chest with the lid torn off – there is nothing inside, much to Luxor's disappointment. Upon entering the room, we set the bags inside the chest, the only dry spot in the entire cave. How the hell were we supposed to camp in here exactly?

None of the others seem too concerned with that little problem. Lumin orders Aeryion to guard the door and make sure nobody has followed us, then he gets to work. He begins walking around the room, bent over, with his hands in the muck. He tells me that he is sensing magic around the room. Luxor does the same thing, albeit standing up, tracing the "magic in the air." For a few moments, I simply stand there, no clue what to do with myself when Moriba asks me to come over and help her. She is kneeling down near a large chunk of the ceiling that had fallen into the room, and I walk over to help her.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" I ask her.

"Well, anything really. This room was the sanctum of Mazdak the Accursed, a lich who served Zhaitan the elder dragon."

"Who?" I ask.

She continues talking, not taking her eyes or hands away from the wall, "As you know, the elder dragons corrupt living creatures to make them their minions, or in the case of Zhaitan, dead creatures. In life, Mazdak was a human king; in fact, he was one of the first human kings on Tyria. This was originally his tomb. When Zhaitan took power, Mazdak became corrupted and joined the ranks of the dragon's army as one of its generals. He terrorized Kryta and the Tarnished Coast until he was defeated by the legendary blade, Caladbolg."

"What is a lich?" I ask.

"It's an undead creature whose body is made of dark magic. Because of this, they are very powerful, and almost impossible to kill. Caladbolg was made from the bark of the Pale Tree, and therefore was able to harm and destroy Mazdak. Here, in his inner sanctum is where the battle took place."

"Then why are we researching this place? What does it have to with the bloodstones?"

"The bloodstones are perhaps the most powerful magical artifact in the world. It would not be inaccurate to say that they are magic itself, as in them, the power of magic is sealed. Because we do not know where the bloodstones truly are, we must follow the only thing that connects us to them: magic. This place is ripe with the dark magic of Mazdak as well as the pure magic of Caladbolg, so it is the perfect place to research."

I have many more questions, but I hold my tongue, afraid that I will end up looking like an imbecile who doesn't know anything at all, which I suppose I am. Instead, I walk to the other side of the wall, that way Moriba can't see what I'm doing, and begin examining it for anything suspicious. Unfortunately, I am completely out of tune with magic, especially compared to the others, and figuring out what is important and what isn't is extremely difficult without that skill. Still, I manage on my own. Examining the cuts in the wall. If I wasn't so afraid of being called a fool, I might have been able to walk around the room and figure out how the fight had occurred. I may not be skilled in tracking magic, but I can track physical prey like few others.

An hour goes by, then two. By that time, night has long since fallen, and the group is searching through the crypt by the light of torches Lumin had packed. Moriba had steadily been taking samples from the wall and the water around and putting them into a bag, and so far, I had only managed to find a small piece of metal wedged between two stones. She had taken it from me, but I am still certain it was just a piece of a support beam. When we leave, I get the feeling that Moriba will throw that one out. Not that I can blame her. There has to be some way that I can sense magic the way the others do. How did Lumin say he did it? Something about, not being able to use his eyes allowed him to see in a way others couldn't. Maybe that is the trick.

I close my eyes and begin to run my hand along the wall. Instead of looking for something, I am feeling for it. It's like how I used to learn from the land. As my fingers touched the stone, the stone would teach me. It would tell me the things it had seen, the things it had heard. It is the teacher and I am the student. At least, that was the plan, but there is a commotion coming from the other side of the wall. I look up and see Luxor and Lumin in a heated discussion about something; Aeryion had come inside to mediate between the two. I notice something shining in Lumin's hand and realize that it is a mirror. It seems Luxor is telling Lumin to put the mirror down, but Lumin is refusing. I shake my head and turn back to my wall. Those two argue like…what's the human colloquialism? They argue like a married couple. Yeah, that's it.

I watch as Lumin examines the mirror, turning it over in his hands. Even from as far away as I am, I can tell that there is something strange about the mirror. For an object that had been stewing in the tepid water of the sanctum for who knows how long, it seemed in pristine condition. I could see the light from Lumin's staff reflect back at me, perfectly clear. Even the handle and backing of the mirror seem to shine, made of some metal that survived the rot of the crypt. I may not have the magic sense that Lumin and Moriba have, but that mirror isn't right. There is something wrong with it. I can't hear what they are saying, but their argument is getting more heated by the minute.

Lumin places his hand against the mirror and I see chaos swirl about his hand. He must be trying to activate the magical powers of the mirror. Figures that anything in this crypt would have mystic powers. For a few moments, Lumin's power swirls around the mirror, reflecting off its surfaces, filling the air with star like light. I find myself transfixed by the sight, and to my left, I see that Moriba is watching the scene as well. The energy from emanating from Lumin's hand begins to revolve around the mirror, forming a small chaos storm. The storm begins shrinking, closing in on the surface of the mirror. The starlight filling the room becomes a single, glowing star, forcing me to turn my head from the sight. About the moment I turn my head away, the chaos storms explodes, filling the room with light that burns my eyes even when I close them tightly. I hear Lumin scream and the light stops as quickly as it started.

When my eyes finally readjust to the darkness in the room, I see the other gathered around Lumin, who is lying in the water, his head propped up by Luxor. Moriba kneels over him, checking his body for wounds. Caeryion is searching through the muck nearby for the mirror. I run over to the group, and see that Lumin is unconscious, and that they have removed his mask. Despite how powerful the explosion was, Lumin doesn't appear to be harmed in anyway.

"Is he alright?" I ask.

Luxor looks down at his friend with worried eyes, "I don't know. He seems to be breathing but.."

Moriba shakes her head, "I can't find any visible wounds. It may have just expended all his energy."

"No," Luxor says, "I sense spectral energy in his body. More than is normal for a living person. It's unnatural."

"Could the spectral energy have knocked him unconscious?"

"I don't—I don't know."

Aeryion walks over to us, "I couldn't find the mirror anywhere. I think it might have been destroyed in the explosion. I can try checking around the room, but I don't know if—"

A loud shriek cuts off Aeryion. The sound comes from somewhere deep in the crypt, echoing off the stone walls. Aeryion and I draw our swords.

"What was that?" Luxor asks.

Moriba's face has gone somewhat pale, "If the spider queen has eggs, doesn't that mean there has to be…?"

Another shriek echoes through the crypts.

"A king," Luxor finishes, "Aeryion, Ollathir, quickly, close the door! Moriba, help me get Lumin to the dry spot. It will be easier to protect him there."

We all followed Luxor's orders, the sound shrieking of the spider king ringing through the air now. The walls of the inner sanctum shake from the sound. Whatever this thing is, it's a lot bigger than the queen was. Aeyion and I run to the door. We try to close it as quick as we can, but it takes two of us to close each side of the door. Once Moriba and Luxor get Lumin to a relatively safe spot, the Protector runs over to help us. We manage to get one door shut when the sound of the spider king's legs scraping against the stone reaches us; he can't be far away.

"C'mon you, bastards, put your back into it! Hurry!"

Just as we are closing the second door, the giant spider king rushes into the queen's nest. The hollow sound of the door closing is followed by the sharp thump of the spider ramming into it. Again and again, the spider rams into the door, but fortunately, the door holds against its attacks. The three of us stand a few feet from the door, weapons at the ready, expecting the door to cave in at any moment, but it never happens. After a dozen or so attempts, the spiders attack stops. The quiet that follows is worse than the sound of it pounding on the door. Behind us, I hear Lumin coughing. Good, at least he's alive.

After we are sure the spider won't try to break through again, we walk back to where Lumin is slowly stirring.

"I think he is going to be alright," Moriba says, "His breathing is regular again. I think he's just asleep."

Luxor sighs with relief, "Good, that makes me feel a bit better."

Aeryion shakes his head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad new, but if Lumin is injured, how are we going to get him out with that spider around?"

I turn my eyes to the door. I didn't see much of the spider king, but I could tell that it is almost twice the size of the queen, and much stronger. We were lucky to close the door in time; otherwise, it would have destroyed us. But Aeryion is right; so long as that monster is waiting for us, there is no way we can get out of here. I briefly considered trying the same tactic we used on the queen, but the king is too big, even if we could outrun it, it's body is so high off the ground that I doubt the spikes would even reach its body.

"So, we wait for a while," I say, "If Lumin gets too bad, then Moriba can teleport him out. We will try to follow as soon as we can."

Luxor glares at me, "I'm not going to wait until Lumin gets "too bad." We need to get him out of here now."

"Uh, Luxor," Aeryion says.

"What is it?"

Aeryion points toward the ceiling of the inner sanctum where small pieces of stone are falling into the water making ripples.

"What?" I say, "A cave in?"

"Worse," Luxor says, "Everybody get down!"

The words barely leave Luxor's mouth when the king spider bursts through the ceiling. Stones tumble all around us, sending up small waves of muck. The monster lands in the center of the room and let's loose a horrid shriek that makes all of us flinch. The king spider is almost ten feet high in it's crouched position, it's outer shell a sickly, piebald color without any hair. It's beady black eyes reflect the few torches that survived the crumbling ceiling, and in them is a deep, primeval rage. Aeryion and I raise our weapons, but Luxor stops us:

"Protect Lumin and Moriba, I'll handle this."

"Luxor…" I begin to say.

He glares at me, "Protect them."

Aeryion and I fall back, standing on either side of Moriba who remains kneeled by Lumin, her pistol at the ready. Luxor runs toward the king spider; who regards him with a quiet fury. Its eyes seem to mock the tiny creature running toward him, but the spider doesn't notice the dark words he mumbles under his breath or the wisps of spectral energy swirling around his fingers. So that by the time Luxor reaches the beast, he is more than ready.

Luxor lunges at the creature with his dagger, cutting into one of its legs. The spider shrieks once more then begins attacking the Sylvari with a hate born fury. I wince as one of the creature's legs slashes across his chest, sending up a small fountain of blood. Just as soon as the wound appears on Luxor, it heals and reappears on the spider, a massive gash in the king's abdomen, making it shriek with pain. In its anger, it begins attacking with a greater fury. Each wound the spider gives Luxor, appears on the body of the spider itself so that in only a few short moments the creature is oozing oily green blood from dozens of deep cuts. No matter how strong the creature may be, even it can't handle such an onslaught. I see its legs begin to stumble, crumpling beneath the weight of its own body. In one final attempt to kill the dark Sylvari standing in front of it, the spider swings it's leg in a wide arc aimed at Luxor's neck. The blow strikes him, and the spider's body falls to the ground, headless. The dark wisps around Luxor's hands fade away, and he collapses to the ground, covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

"I wasn't sure that would work."

Aeryion runs over and wraps an arm around Luxor's shoulder, helping him walk back to where Lumin is laying. The necromancer leans his head against the empty treasure chest and take a few deep breaths as he tries to regain his strength.

"Yes," Moriba says, "But it did, and now we can get out of her with Lumin."

"…what? Where are we going?"

We all turn and see Lumin gazing up at, his eyes a bit groggy. Upon seeing him awake, Luxor immediately rises, seeming to have forgotten his own pain.

"Lumin! Are you alright?"

Lumin looks up at Luxor, "Luxor?"

"Yes, it's me. What's wrong?"

"Luxor, I—I can see you."

"What?"

"I—I can see. My eyesight. I'm not blind anymore."

"But that's—Lumin, that's impossible. How can that be?"

"It must have been the mirror," Moriba says quietly.

"If so, then it must be a great blessing."

Luxor looks at his friend incredulously, "I'm not so sure.."

"What do you mean? Luxor, I can see. I have my eyesight back! How can this be anything but a blessing?"

"Lumin, just take it easy," Luxor says, "We don't know what other effects the mirror might have had on you."

"What does it matter? I have my sight back, Luxor! Thank the Pale Tree! How can this be anything but a miracle?"

But as he says it, Lumin falls to the ground screaming with pain, his hands gripping his temples and sap dripping from his nose and mouth.


	4. Chapter 4: The Courtier and the Corsair

Mabon Market is a small trading post in central Caledon that rests on the northern shore of Ventry Bay. The town is a nexus for travellers who stop there on their way to the Grove and Astorea. The fact that Mabon is connected to the Lion Road means that people of all races can be found there, which makes the trading village my least favorite place in Caledon Forest, and if dealing with grumpy asura and arrogant humans isn't bad enough, courtiers have been known to move about the village, hiding in the thick crowds, and hunting for naïve saplings. The wardens have been tightening security in the area, but Mabon is no caer or fort; there are three roads leading into and out of the village and the undefended bay to the south. Getting into Mabon is a fairly simple feat, even for a courtier in full armor. I remember several occasions when the wardens dispatched me to scout around Mabon for courtier spies entering and leaving the village.

So, it is safe to say that I am on edge while Moriba and I move slowly through the crowds of the market, and I am glancing at every Sylvari we pass, searching for the distinct look that courtiers have: a coldness of the eyes and a stiff, tense way of walking. I know the look because I see it in myself; it is the look of a person in enemy territory. Even though I am well known to the wardens here, this place is unfamiliar to me. I don't belong in a crowded village with a norn digging his sweaty elbow into myshoulder; this place is not natural; I should be in the forest among the trees. If it were just me, I would leave as soon as possible, but Moriba is pulling me through the crowd by my arm.

"Who are we meeting again?" I ask, my voice low so no one overhears us.

"The magister," Moriba tells me, "He is in charge of all research that the seekers undertake – something like the head scholar."

"Alright, and why are we meeting this magister?"

"Well, he heard about what happened in the crypts and about Lumin's condition. After he found out, he told me that he had read about a similar artifact that had turned up here in Caledon. The magister wanted to come personally and investigate it with us."

"Does Lumin know about this 'investigation?'" I ask.

"Moriba shakes her head, "Lumin is convinced that there is nothing wrong with him. He honestly believes that this mirror is a blessing. Although I can't blame him, being able to see for the first time…"

"Yes, I saw how mad he became when Luxor insinuated something was wrong with him. If he finds out what we are doing, he will be that much angrier."

"Lumin won't find out," She says, "He is making Luxor take him to see Lion's Arch and then the Grove; that will keep him busy for at least a day – maybe more."

"Luxor doesn't know either?"

"No, but he doesn't have to. The magister holds an equal rank to Luxor."

"Try telling him that, " I say.

Moriba doesn't say anything else until we reach the eastern edge of Mabon where the Lion Road enter the village. As the crowd thins, a flash of red and black fills the corner of my vision; I whirl around and scan the crowd, but whoever I saw has already disappeared deeper into the village. When I turn back, Moriba is staring at me with her witching look.

"What's wrong, Ollathir?" She asks.

"It's nothing," I say, "Just thought I saw something."

"Well alright," She says, then nods toward a Sylvari standing by a lamp post, "That is the magister."

The magister is a tall, thin Sylvari with a slightly gaunt face. His skin, hair, and clothes are all a pale greenish-gray like moss or lichens, giving him a faded look. It's as if he has not slept well recently or has spent too much time inside, which is probably the case if he is a scholar. Still, his eyes gleam with an intense sharpness that speaks of his wisdom and rank. If there is a Sylvari that appears "elderly" as the humans say, then it must be this one. Magister is a fitting title for him. As we approach, he looks up and smiles at us. For some reason, he seems excited; perhaps he has not spent much time away from his books. Either way, as soon as he sees us, he walks quickly over, trips on an exposed root, and falls flat on his face. I spoke too soon.

Moriba run over, "Magister! Are you alright?"

"Yes," he says, quickly getting to his feet, smiling all the while, "I am just a bit excited about our investigation."

He chuckles and Moriba laughs, but as for me, I remain humorless. From what I have been told, a hierarchy governs the Seekers. There is the founder, Lumin, who is in charge overall. Under him are three equally ranked members, the Protector, the Saboteur, and the Magister, who are in charge of all lower ranking members of the guild, who govern themselves based on the principle of "He knows what the hell he is doing, so let's follow him." Thus far, I have met the founder, the Protector, and the Magister, and my opinion of all three is that they are absolute fools of the highest order. Lumin seems to live in his own fantasyland where everything is perfect and he controls all – though I admit I have only known him since he regained his sight, Luxor is a drunk, and this magister is just a bumbling buffoon. I can't imagine why Moriba has stayed with this guild for so long – she at least seems to have some common sense. All I can assume is that she actually cares about those fools, in the same way that she cared about me the first time that we met. Honestly, the girl is too kind for her own good.

The magister notices my frown and straightens himself; he tries to put on a scholarly bearing, I guess to impress me, but ends up looking more like a fool than anything else.

The pale sylvari bows formally, "Hello, you must be Ollathir. Moriba has told me much about you."

"Indeed," I say curtly. If he thinks I am going to give him any special treatment because of his rank, he is mistaken. As far as I am concerned, he is of no rank at all, and the sooner I am done with this fool the better. Moriba gives me an irritated look, and I know that she think I am being rude. Good, I think, maybe this magister will figure it out too. From the nervous look on his face, I think my point is getting across quite well. The magister is at least intelligent, if not sensible.

"So, magister, tell us about this mirror." Moriba says, trying to steer the conversation away from my rudeness.

As soon as the mention of the artifact comes up, the nervous look disappears and his eyes light up like a child's on Wintersday, "Yes! The mirror. As soon as I heard about what happened to Lumin, I remembered a correspondence I received from Trahearne a few weeks ago. A short while ago, there was a large storm that blew through Caledon, and it hit particularly hard along the shores of the bay. Apparently, Trahearne's apprentice is a warden at Annwen beach. From what he told me, she found a magical mirror after the storm."

"Wait a minute," I say, "The warden you're talking about wouldn't happen to be Tegwen would it?"

The magister pauses for a second to think, then nods, "Yes, I believe that is her name."

"You know her, Ollathir?" Moriba asks.

I nod, "I often worked with Tegwen and her apprentice, Carys. Those beaches are thick with Krait and Orrians, and there is always work to be done."

"Well, we will probably be killed before we get there," The magister says, nodding his head as though he has solved some great problem, "But at least we won't have any trouble convincing her to give us the mirror."

"No, but are you sure that this mirror will even help Lumin?" I ask.

"Who knows? But so far it's out best bet. Once we get the mirror, we can examine it and find out whether or not it will be of any use."

Moriba looks past me and the magister, "Can we help you?"

I turn and see a light green Sylvari standing nonchalantly to the side, obviously listening to our conversation. The stranger is my height, but obviously much stronger. Thickly muscled arms and legs barely fit into heavy metal gauntlets and boots. His chest is bare, with just a few leather belts crossing over it, plainly showing his powerful physique. A long sword is strapped to each side of his belt, and across his back is a longbow and quiver. Upon being discovered – if you can call what he is doing hiding – he smiles arrogantly at us:

"Just overheard you talking, couldn't help it you know, as I was standing nearby, minding my own business. Heard you were heading up to Annwen?"

The Magister looks at Moriba and me, but neither of us offer him any advice, "Yes, we are. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm heading up that way myself, and it never hurts to have a few friends. 'Side, I heard you mention something about artifacts, and I ain't gonna pass that up!"

"You're a treasure hunter," Moriba says.

"Yep! I am a treasure hunter! Though I admit I'm a tad new at doing it on land—" Suddenly he burst into laughter, "Doing it on land, if that didn't come out wrong!"

"You're a pirate then," I say.

He pauses from his laughter, "Eh? What's that? Pirate? No, no. Now that's a weighted word, you know? Sounds bad when you say I'm a pirate. No, I am what you call a corsair."

The Magister raises an eyebrow, "That's the same thing."

"I'm sorry are you a pirat—I mean, corsair? No? I didn't think so. What would you know?"

For some reason the way that this stranger talks reminds me of someone that I know, but I can't place a finger on it. Despite being Sylvarii, he doesn't have the same, crisp accent that most of our kind has. His is deeper, and rougher. Most Sylvari have a voice like wind blowing through the leaves; his is more like salt. Who else have I heard with that manner of speaking?

"Well, we have no need for a corsair, thank you," the magister says.

"Was I offering my help? Nah, I am going up there whether you lot come with me or not. Got business up there, I do."

"What kind of business?"

"Going to look for an old friend – she's the warden up there. Went missing after that bad storm that blew through here a few weeks ago."

"You mean Tegwen?" I ask.

"Yeah!" He says. He has not stopped smiling since the conversation started, "You know her?"

"She's a friend," I say, "And if she is missing, then our investigation just became more difficult."

The Magister nods, "Yes. Perhaps we should go together after all, corsair. It seems our paths are intertwined. We will help you find Tegwen if you will help us find our artifact."

The corsair's smile widens, "Sounds like quite the adventure! Count me in!"

"Then we should—"

A warden running up to our group cuts the magister short; he is out of breath and covered in sweat, obviously having run a great distance to find us. He hands Moriba a letter. She opens it quickly and scans over its contents:

"I'm sorry, but it seems the Priory needs my assistance for an experiment. You will have to continue this part of the investigation without me."

The magister nods to her, and she turns to leave, the exhausted warden following quickly behind her. I don't know why, but I feel a strange biting sensation in my chest when I watch her leave. Since the events in the crypts a few days ago, Moriba and I have spent most of our spare time together, and it feels strange seeing her leave. For half a moment, I consider following her and leaving the mirror situation in the hands of the magister and the pirate, but I know Moriba would not want me to do that. They will need my help, and of course, there is Tegwen to worry about. She is one of the few wardens I have met who have sense, and it would be a shame if they lost one as good as her. Of course, that is my way of saying that she is my friend and that I have to help her. Though I will never admit it to the others, least of all these two. I don't know how I am going to manage being with these two for an extended period of time, but I take a deep breath.

"Let's go," I say.

The three of us begin walking north on the Lion's Road. The corsair and I walk with long, even strides, but the magister falls behind, huffing and out of breath. We stop and wait for him, then set out a bit slower. At this rate, we might not reach Annwen before nightfall. Maybe I should ask the pirate to carry him; or better yet, maybe we should just leave him behind. What would I tell Moriba? "Oh, we turned our backs for one moment and he was just gone. It's sad, but you know how dangerous the forest can be." Somehow, I didn't think that would work.

After an hour of hard walking, we reach the halfway point – a Lionguard fort built over the stones of ancient ruins. The three of us walk into the fort and sit down against the wall. Well, the pirate and I rest, the magister kind of collapses in a puddle of sweat. I have never seen anybody so out of shape. Has he ever left the library? I ask him as much.

"I just…I don't …I don't do much fieldwork," He says between heaving breaths.

I simply shake my head. Just my luck to get the one member of the Bloodstone Seekers who can't pull his own weight at the very least. I glance at the other member of our group – the pirate is sitting on a barrel, drinking from a flask. I can smell the alcohol from several feet away. I hope Tegwen is comfortable wherever she is, because this group probably won't be very helpful.

"So!" The pirate says, his loud voice drawing the attention of several members of the Liongaurd who disregard him immediately, "What's your names?"

After a few deep breaths, the magister manages to heave out, "Etaire."

"I'm Ollathir Hemlock," I say, "And you?"

"Name's Vael! And don't you lads forget it!"

Yep, Tegwen is doomed.

After our rest, we set off again. To save some time, we leave the Lion Road and cut through the hilly region on the western shore of the bay, which save us time, but unfortunately, causes Etaire to pass out again. Another short rest under some trees revives him, and we continue. The entire time, I get the feeling that we are being watched or followed, and I swear that every once in a while I see that flash of red and black behind us, but each time I turn around, there is nothing there. Finally, I just write off the sensation as nervousness from not being with Moriba. Geeze, a few days with her and I have come to rely on her; I am going to have to distance myself from the pink Sylavri, otherwise who knows what could happen.

Annwen beach is a rather pretty stretch of beach just south of Kraitbane Island, near the Krytan border. It would make a very nice place to relax if it wasn't in such a bad location. To the south, there is a tribe of Hylek that routinely attack the local settlements. To the east, the bay is teeming with Krait, snake-like creatures that capture locals and enslave them. To the west, the Rowanwoods are overrun by Risen undead. Because of this, the once beautiful Annwen beach is under constant threat. The fact that Tegwen has remained the warden here for so long speaks of her skill. When we arrive, the beach is littered with driftwood from the storm. At least, it looks like driftwood. Upon closer inspection, I realize that large portions of the refuse on the beach are actually the rotting limbs of the Risen. It seems the mirror isn't the only thing that storm brought. I don't mind most creatures, but the Risen and other undead beings like spirits and ghosts make me uncomfortable. I am not a spiritual person, especially compared to others of my kind. Even now, after meeting the Pale Tree and hearing the tenets, I still do not think much of them. They guide the other Sylvari well enough, but they have never had a bearing on my life. I do not understand things of that nature, death included, and things that don't stay dead are unnatural.

As the three of us are surveying the disaster on the shore, we hear a loud scream on the northern side of the beach. Vael and I glance at each other and sprint over toward the scream, leaving Etaire behind; he would just get in our way anyway. On the northern edge we see a lone Sylvari fighting off several dozen Risen, barely keeping them at bay with the help of several mortar turrets, but it is obvious that she will be quickly overwhelmed. Both of us pull out our swords and charge into the fray, unnoticed by the warden who is still barely holding back the line of undead. As the pirate and I meet the invaders, I see Etaire rounding the bend, wielding two wickedly sharp daggers. Perhaps I underestimated him.

Risen are dangerous; I think that goes without saying. Most of them were pirates or soldiers, and even in death they somehow retained their fighting skills. A few of them wield rusting weapons, but even those with bare hands are dangerous. They don't feel pain. They don't feel fear. And they are very hard to kill.

That doesn't stop us though. Vael immediately rushes in, his two swords tearing through the undead beasts like a meat grinder. Arms, legs, pieces of flesh, and even heads are severed from their bodies and flung through the air by his steel blades. They way he moves with his swords is almost graceful – for every stroke that slays one of the beast, his other sword stroke pushes them back, allowing him to fight defensively and offensively at the same time. After a few moments, Vael is in the middle of the horde, completely surrounded but still fighting flawlessly. As for me, I do not have the graceful sword play that the pirate does, instead, my strikes are all cold and calculated. I waste no movement with each blow of my blade - one strike, one kill, no wasted motion or energy. Vael's swords fly through the air like an ocean breeze, blowing his foes aside; mine fly like shadows, bringing them down one by one. Around the two of us, a small pile of lifeless bodies begins piling up. Behind me, Carys is smashing the heads of the ones we miss, her hammer grinding through the air like a war machine; I swear I can hear the gears moving within her hammer. Even Etaire is striking down a few of the stragglers with his daggers.

The five of us are holding our—wait a minute, five? I look over our group as we fight off the last of the Risen. There is Vael and I at the front and Carys and Etaire at the back, who is that fifth warrior? On the western side of the beach, a warrior in red and black armor is easily holding back at least a dozen of the Risen, swinging his great sword as if it is made of wood instead of metal. Around his feet are the mangled bodies of several Risen. If Vael fights with grace and I fight with cunning, then this stranger fights with unbridled rage, destroying his enemies before they even enter the fray. I remember the strange feeling of being followed and the red and black I kept seeing. This isn't just any warrior; this has to be a courtier.

Before I can act on this realization, the ground begins to shake, and all of the remaining Risen stop attacking and retreat into the waters. The defenders lower their weapons and look around.

"That can't be good…" Vael begins.

Before he can finish, a monstrous creature rises from the waters. It's body is made of chunks of rotting flesh held together by pieces of bone and coral. The monster rises at least twenty feet into the air, and in one of its arms is a wooden club twice the size of a Sylvari. The creature lets loose a guttural roar and begins bounding toward the beach, sending up small waves of water with every clumsy step. Everyone on the beach freezes for a moment, unsure what to do against such a monster; then Etaire sprints forward, faster than I could have guessed. At the edge of the beach, the magister chants strange dark words. From his daggers, dark energy moves in smoke-like swirls out toward the corpses of the slain Risen; they swirl in the air of their bodies, then settle on them like a morning mist. Nothing happens for half a second. Suddenly, one of the creatures begins to twitch, then another, and soon, they rise to their feet. Not just one or two of the defeated undead but all of them – dozens of half destroyed bodies stumbling and dragging themselves forward to do their new master's bidding. The monsters move toward the undead abomination with an unearthly ferocity, greater than what they showed even when they were attacking us. The monster swings its club in retaliation, knocking many of them back, but all of them got back up and continue forward. Soon, the giant is overwhelmed, and the creatures are around it, pulling chunks of flesh off its legs. It tries batting them away, but there are too many, swarming over its body like ants. Their incessant tearing at its legs cause it to pitch forward into the swampy waters, sending up a wave that blocks our vision for half a moment. When the water settles back down, there is nothing left of the giant but a few slivers of bone and pile of rotten flesh; it took less than two minutes.

Vael and I look at each other, then back at the magister, who is bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Behind us, the warden Carys is staring at where the giant had been, her eyes wide and face pale, obviously put off by the grotesque event. I think we all are a little – all five of us. Vael must be thinking the same thing because he turns to the armored stranger at the same moment I do. Before I can say anything, Vael points his swords at the stranger angrily:

"Oy! What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

The stranger smirks a little as he leans casually on his great sword. It is difficult to make out his appearance because of how much armor he is wearing, but I can see a dark glint in his eyes. The armor is dyed red and black and looks like it is made of thorns rather than metal or hardened bark like other Sylvari wear.

"You know him?" I ask.

"Aye," The corsair says, "He's a courtier. Jumped me the other day east of Astorea."

"Jumped?" The nightmare courtier sneers, with a voice that scrapes through the air like a stone against bark, "I recall beating you fair and square."

Vael scowls, obviously irritated at being reminded of a loss, "Fine, then let's settle it here and now!"

The magister steps in between the corsair and courtier, "We don't have time for this, Vael; we need to focus on finding Tegwen. She could be in danger!"

At this, Carys piped up with her shrill voice, "You're here to find Tegwen? Oh thank the Pale Tree! I was so scared I would be left here alone."

"What happened to her?" Etaire asks.

"I don't know," Say Carys, "She went out after the storm and didn't come back. I am afraid that those awful Risen have taken her."

The courtier scoffs, "Please, sapling, if the Risen found her then you'd be finding little pieces of her washing up on the shore."

Carys goes pale.  
"Calm down, Carys," I say, "If she was out on the shore of the bay, then she probably was captured by Krait; they have a tower in the middle of the water where they take slaves."

"You think so?" The magister asks.

I nod, "I know so. It wouldn't be the first time they took a warden who got too close to their waters. We can get there from Kraitbane Island. It's a short swim to the tower."

"Then let's get going," Carys says.

"Yes," says the Courtier, "Let's."

"Hold on, grumps," Vael says, "You're not going with us."

"Oh? And who's going to stop me? You? Ha, go ahead, this time when I'm finished with you, you will wish you were dead."

Etaire looks at me and whispers, "What do you think we should do? We can't let him come with us, and we can't risk a fight."

"Why are you asking me?" I ask.

"Well, you're a thief, aren't you? Don't you have ways of getting out of situations like this?"

I laugh quietly, "I think you need to read a few books on thieves, magister. I can't clap my fingers and make the courtier disappear in a puff of smoke….although…."

"What?"

"Get ready to run when I tell you to. Grab Carys and go to the Lionguard Keep south of Kraitbane; I will grab Vael and do the same. This courtier won't be able to follow us there, the Lionguard won't let him get within a hundred paces of the places if we tell them that he's a courtier."

"You're kidding. That's your plan? Just run out of here? That courtier will kill us all!"

I ignore him and reach into my satchel and pull out several small smoke bombs, designed to explode upon contact with the ground. Two of them should be enough to get the four of us away, but I'd rather be wasteful now than be stingy and have to regret it later. I look to Etaire, asking if he's ready. He nods, if a bit reluctantly. I throw both the smoke bombs into the sand of the beach, one at Etaire's feet, the other at mine:

"Run!" I shout, and sprint forward, grabbing Vael's arm and pulling him away from the beach all in one quick motion, too fast for him to resist. Through the smoke, I can vaguely make out Etaire doing the same with Carys, albeit, somewhat less gracefully. At least he didn't trip and fall. After tossing the smoke bomb, the four of us run as fast as we can toward the Lionguard keep south of Kraitbane Island, which is only a short distance from Anwen. Five minutes later, we are all standing in the fort, out of breath. When I can finally breath again, I tell one of the Lionguard to keep an eye out for the red and black courtier.

"So," I say, turning to Vael, "Who's your friend?"

He scowls, "No friend of mine. His name is Reamonn; a courtier, and a nasty one at that. He's one of the knights – the knight of blood, if I recall correctly."

"He told you his name and title?"

"He's not the brightest sparkfly in the Grove, if you catch my drift. He thinks that the mention of his name is enough to scare people away. Too bad nobody's ever heard of him. Ends up just sounding like an idiot, jumping out of the bushes screaming, 'You will die at the hands of Reamonn, knight of blood!' or something like that."

"Yeah, tragic," I say, "But why is he following us?"

"Probably to find Tegwen," Etaire says, shaking his head, "The courtiers have been targeting wardens, or so I've heard. He probably was sent to kill her."

"Great, so we have to rescue Tegwen from a bunch of Krait, then protect her from an ebon knight?"

Cayrs pipes up, "Oh please, I know it is dangerous, but you have to save Tegwen. I don't know what I will do without her…"

"Calm down, lass," Vael says, "We'll get your friend back, but it isn't going to be easy."

"No, it isn't," I say, "But we need to hurry. This Reamonn knows where she is too, and if he is after her, then he will go straight to Kraitbane island."

"So, if the Krait don't kill us, the courtier will," Etaire says grimly, "Fantastic."

Vael stands, "Enough complaining, you lot. Let's go."

The four of us quickly walk to Kraitbane, just north of the fort. The island is really just a small sandbar with the Lion Road built over it. Just to the east, a tall, wooden structure extends out of the water. It is made from pieces of driftwood and rusty metal found in the bottom of the bay. On the northern side of the structure, I can barely make out a set of small, metal cages; that's our goal. Swimming out there, won't be easy. The waters are infested with the Krait, and they don't take kindly to trespassers. It will take us almost five minutes to swim out to the Krait tower, and in that time, we will be completely defenseless. Below the water, Krait are swimming, armed with spears, daggers, and poison, and all of them are just itching to skewer a Sylvari foolish enough to go for a little dip. Looks like we won't be disappointing them today. We walk out to the shoreline and begin to remove our gloves, boots, and some of the heavier parts of our armor. Vael has to take off almost all of his gear, leaving him standing on the shoreline in nothing but a pair of leather shorts with his belts strapped across his chest. I have to take off my hood, cloak and hood, leaving me with just a thin cloth shirt and breeches and my sword belt.

"Well, aren't you an attractive bunch," I hear from atop a nearby rock. Turning, I see Reamonn standing proudly, his black armor gleaming in the son. Without our armor, Vael and I are as good as dead if we get into a fight. Strangely, the thought of my death only brings to mind how unfortunate that I didn't get to see Moriba again before I died. Ugh, what was that female doing to my head?

"What do you want, grumps? Can't you see we're about to go for a swim?"

The courter sneers, "Yes, I see you about to swim to your graves. Going out into the water without any armor? How stupid can you."

"No stupider than the one who goes into the water in full armor and sinks like an anchor."

This makes the courtier pause; as if he is trying to work out whether he would float or sink if he was to jump into the bay. For half a second, I am almost certain he is going to try it, just to see what happens, but unfortunately, we aren't that lucky. Instead, he simply jumps down off the rock, "Well, then you will need an extra hand to fight off the Krait."

"You've got to be kidding," Vael says, "Why in hell would we trust you?"

"Because if you don't then the Krait will kill you."

Before Vael and I can say anything, Etiare nods, "He's right. Our chances of survival will greatly improve if he comes along."

I glare at Etaire, unable to believe what I just heard. The magister is actually accepting help from a courtier in order to improve 'our chances of survival.' Only a fool would willingly trust a courtier, and this magister, the person supposedly in charge of the scholars, is accepting his help. Maybe I should go ask the Hylek for help too. Who know, the Risen might even be willing to lend a hand. Come on everyone! Help us rescue our friend from the Krait! The enemy of my enemy is my friend! Idiot.

"There is no way we can trust him!" Vael says, "He will stab all of us in the back as soon as he gets the change."

"I don't think so," Etaire says, "If he did, then he would have to deal with the Krait on his own, which would be an impossible feat, even for him. Isn't that right?"

The courtier nods.

Etaire steps forward and offers his hand, "A truce then. Until we get the warden back from the Krait, neither of us stab each other in the back. We can kill each other after we have all gotten what we want."

"Fine," The courtier says, ignoring the magister's outstretched hand, "But I am not taking orders from any of you fools."

And that is how a pirate, a warden, a thief, a scholar, and a courtier ended up swimming out into a Krait infested bay, with no armor, and only a few weapons that they could carry. Absolutely brilliant. Amazingly, the swim out to the tower went without a hitch. None of the Krait beneath the waves noticed us, that or they didn't feel the need to attack; I don't know if that's good or bad.

The tower, however, is another story. There are at least a dozen of the creatures on it, and as we swim closer, they begin throwing spears at us. Fortunately, nobody is hit, but some of the spears come too close to comfort; one of them got close enough to cut the leaves off the side of Vael's head. Once reach the tower, we are out of the spear throwers' range, forcing them to climb down the tower to meet us head on. The five of us, half-naked, and dripping with water, raise our weapons to defend ourselves.

Two of the Krait reach the bottom deck before the others and charge at us, trying to run us through with their spears. Vael parries one of them, pushing it into the water, while the courtier drives his heavy sword through the chest of the other, snapping its spear in the process. Before we can celebrate their victory, four more snakes arrive, and the one Vael tossed in the Bay climbs onto the platform, flanking us. I turn to face the one to our backs while the pirate and the knight hold off the four at the front. In the center of our group, Etaire is busy, mumbling a dark enchantment while Carys protects him.

Even though Krait are a fearsome foe underwater, on land, they loose their greatest edge. Their snakelike tails prevent them from moving quickly, and it makes it difficult for them to evade their enemy's attacks. Still, they are not to be taken lightly, as the poison on a Krait's spear can bring down a Norn in an hour. The one that I am facing lost one of his spears from his encounter with Vael, making him an easy target. I hold his spear away from me with my sword, and with my other hand, drive my dagger into his chest. I feel the metal crack through the thin, fish-like bones of the creature, followed by a sickly, sputtering noise, and the creature lies dead at my feet. Behind me, Vael and Reamonn have finished off the last of the main group. Right as we begin putting our weapons away, a loud, animalistic scream fills the air, and we watch a Krait leap from the highest part of the tower, its body surrounded by locusts and biting flies, and fall into the body below.

The magister grins, "She was a witch. Trying to put a blood magic curse on us, but I took care of it."

Nobody responds to this, instead, our group climbs to the top level where the cages rest. There are three prisoners sitting in their cages, one of which is, fortunately, Tegwen; the other two are a Hylek and an asura, both of whom are being royal pains. Carys runs up to her mentor's cage:

"Oh thank the Pale Tree, you're alright!"

"Carys? What are you doing here? You should be at Anwen, protecting the beach."

"I came to rescue you, and my friends helped!"

Tegwen looked over our motley group, her eyes resting for a moment on Reamonn, "I see..well thank you, but you need a key to open the cages, I think its—"

"That's not a problem," Says Vael.

The pirate steps forward and places his sword under the latch of the cage. After giving it a few test pulls to make sure he has the right fulcrum, he pries up, snapping the rusted metal lock off. He repeats the process with each of the cages, allowing the asura and Hylek to go free as well. As soon as Tegwen is free, Vael and I position ourselves between her and the courtier.

"Alright, so how do we do this?" Vael asks, "If we swim back in a group, the courtier is liable to kill Tegwen now that our little agreement is over, but if we don't swim together, the Krait are likely to get us."

The courtier smiles darkly at this.

I glare at the courtier, "Simple, Vael, you and Carys take the front, the three of them will follow behind, and Etaire and I will bring up the rear with Reamonn, making sure that he doesn't try anything."

Etaire stiffens, "Now hold on, why am I—"

"Hush, Etaire," I say, "Let's go before more Krait show up."

We all leap into the water and swim to shore in the order I gave. Etaire and I swim on either side of Reamonn, cutting him off each time he tries to swim ahead. As we get closer to the shore, I can see his scowl getting angrier. No wonder Vael calls him grumps. Back on the shore, myself, Etaire, Vael, Carys, and the three prisoners stand on one side while the courtier stands opposite us.

"Well?" Vael says, "You going to try to fight us without your fancy armor, grumps?"

Reamonn looks over our group. All of us have our hands on our weapons, prepared to fight, even Etaire, and though I am not sure it is possible, I swear that his scowl became even angrier. The courtier gathers up his armor and begins backing away, "Another day then, Vael."

With him gone, we turn our attention back to Tegwen.

"Are you alright?" I ask her.

"Yes, I am fine. Thank you, Ollathir. I admit, you're one of the last people I expected to come and rescue me."

"Well, I admit my reasons for coming were not originally to rescue you."

"Oh?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

Etaire steps in, "Yes, we are actually researching the mirror that you found."

"Oh that, well, I was captured before I could find it."

"A mirror, huh?" says the asura, "There were some Skritt talking about wall of hard water over by my lab at Zinder Slope. Could be your mirror."

"What do you think, magister?" I ask.

"It's worth taking a look at. Let's meet there tomorrow morning, that way Moriba can join us. I think she would be most interested in this artifact."

I nod, "Alright, then I will go to the Grove to find Moriba. We will meet you in the Wildlands tomorrow."

"Aye," Says Vael, "I'll take Tegwen to a healer, and I'll meet you there too."

"You don't have to do that, Vael. You've already helped us quite a bit."

"I'm not going to help you. Reamonn might still be after Tegwen. She will need protection."

Etaire nods, "You're right, we will welcome your help then."

"Tomorrow then."

"Yes, tomorrow."

Our group seperates to go to our respective locations. Moriba will more likely than not be back at the Grove sometime tonight, and I will be able to pass the message on to her. Still, there is something nagging at me. As I walk south, down the Lion Road, I get the horrible feeling that I am still being watched.


End file.
